


To Hold a Queen

by HydrokineticQueen



Series: Rise of the Undgeround City [1]
Category: Aquaman (2018), Aquaman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Adventure, Atlantis, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Post-Aquaman (2018), Post-Justice League (2017), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 62,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydrokineticQueen/pseuds/HydrokineticQueen
Summary: When Mera falls prey to an ancient disease the race is on to find an unknown cure hidden within the depths of a buried city. Loyal to the disease’s outcome, a group known as The Guardians will stop at nothing to hinder Mera and Arthur’s progress for her cure. As time ticks on, Mera is closing in on death and the fate of Atlantis is in question when the origins behind her illness come to light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Post-Movie- This story takes place long down the line where Arthur and Mera have been together for quite some time. There are some comic references as Mera and Arthur have a place on the land too and Salty the dog has an appearance. If you haven’t read the comics, it’s not a problem. The references are few and far between.)

 

     Light shined through the window, wrinkling the Queen of Atlantis’ nose. Firmly grabbing the blankets, she pushed the covers under her chin. Never one to sleep in, her wired brain appeared to rise with the sun. For a few lingering moments, Mera wanted to capture peace coinciding with dreamland. The jolt in her stomach always reminded her that these were mere moments before her legs had to swing over the bed. The unknown of the day was to be faced. For now, she procrastinated duty.

 

     Duty today meant grocery shopping.

 

     Hopefully, it would remain as simple.

 

     Giving in, she shoved off the covers. Smoothing out her light blue nightgown unkempt from sleep, she stood. She wobbled. She placed a hand to her head and sat back down. A drop in her stomach accompanied the swirling sensation of her head, along with flushed cheeks.

 

     Low blood sugar. She needed breakfast. She sat still, waiting for the episode to pass.

 

     A groan sounded beside her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her betrothed was fighting his own awakening. Feeling better, she smiled gently. Mera leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear, “time to get up.”

 

     A second groan was her answer.

 

     “It’s morning...” her sing-song voice belted.

 

     “It’s my day off,” Arthur grumbled.

 

     “Kings don’t get days off.”

 

     “Kings get five more minutes.”

 

     Mera paused, tapping her lips. She then added, “okay. I suppose I’ll put my nightgown back on since you aren’t interested.”

 

     “Naked?” He asked without turning.

    

     “But since you are not interested...”

 

     Slowly, he peaked open one eye, looking over his ever so slightly shoulder. He turned his head back and shut his eyes completely, “liar.”

 

     Mera rolled her eyes and then stood up. At least this time her head didn’t become fuzzy. She started for the door when suddenly she was off the ground. Mera laughed as strong arms lifted her in the air, her back pressed against Arthur’s bare chest. She was finding herself driven backwards. Arthur collapsed on the bed, landing on his back, taking Mera with him. He held her securely in his arms.

 

     She laughed again and flipped herself over, now face to face.

 

     Lifting his head up, he kissed her lips quickly, “good morning.”

 

     Mera smiled, nose inches from his own, “good morning, my love.”

 

     “Where’s my girl running off to?” He asked.

 

     “To make breakfast. Then I must go to the market.”

 

     “Want me to tag along?” he asked.

 

     “One of us has to take the dog to the vet for his checkup.”

 

     “Why do I get the vet?”

 

     “Because you hate grocery shopping.”

 

     “I also hate the vet.”

 

     Mera tapped his nose, “too bad.” She stood up.

 

     Sitting up, he grumbled, “you know-“

 

     “Hmmm,” Mera looked in the mirror of their bedroom, noting how knotted her red locks were from sleep. She grabbed a brush off the bureau and began battling the snarls.

 

     “In some Kingdoms,” Arthur continued, “they have people who do these chores. They take the dogs to the vet. They even have a chef that cooks up the food. People clean for them.”

 

     “Yes, but we are in a house, not a kingdom,” she said with a firm tug of the brush through her stubborn hair. “Besides, we have that in Atlantis and you hate it. You are always saying how you can ‘do for yourself.’ Besides, you enjoy the simple life of the surface.”

 

     “Does more work mean simpler? Or does less work mean simpler?”

 

     “I think it means you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she mused, putting the brush down when she had her hair right.

 

     “No. I just forgot I had to go to the vet.”

 

     Mera walked towards him and put her arms around his neck, “you do. You need your vaccinations and heart worm pills.”

 

     “Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”

 

     Mera kissed him, “I know.” She made her way to the door, “come on. Breakfast isn’t cooking itself.”

 

     “Oh. I’m doing that now too?”

 

     “Yes, your Heinous,” she called from down the hallway.

 

***

 

The Farmer’s Market had been in town for several weeks now. Upon first laying eyes on it, Mera had found herself quite tickled. She went from stand to stand seeing the produce hardworking people had grown from the land. These people had utilized the earth properly, with pride, and honor. They were good people and the sight of their earthly respect earned her own. Her heart had soared. Arthur had mentioned that she looked to be a child at an amusement park, running to each stand, as though they were fun rides to explore.

 

     _“What is this Amusement Park? Do they have fresh produce too?”_

Arthur had laughed and shook his head, though Mera did not understand what he found so funny.

 

     Today was no different for Mera. The excitement dancing in her eyes as she glided to each stand, happily picking out onions, apples, peaches, broccoli. She was nearing her favorite. The strawberries.

 

A middle aged man with a long black beard smiled at her. It must have been the longest beard she had ever seen, but she kept her eyes to his face.

 

“The lady Mera returns.”

 

Mera nodded, “I am sad to see the Farmer’s Market will be closing next week. I wish it could be here longer.”

 

“We will be back,” he said.

 

“For now, enjoy these. Picked them out special for you,” his wife, with dark brown eyes, reached over her husband’s shoulder. She handed Mera the strawberries.

 

“Thank you. They are divine,” she then leaned and whispered, “much better than the stores.”

 

“They better be,” his wife barked before busying herself with another customer.

 

“Well, we have a special way of growin’ ‘em that most people don’t know.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s our own little invention. Keeps ‘em nice, fresh, and juicy.”

 

Mera smiled, handing the man over his payment, “well, no matter your process, they are a delight.”

 

“Have a lovely day. Hope you stop by again before we’re gone.”

 

“I’m sure I will be back for at least one more carton,” she smiled before walking out of the Farmer’s Market. Bags in hand, she headed home.

 

***

 

“I cannot get this silly thing to turn off!” Mera struggled with the remote.

 

“What’s that, Sexy?” Arthur said as he came through the door.

 

“This...this Story Box.”

 

Arthur walked over, amused at her insistence to keep calling the television the ‘Story Box’ despite telling her more than once it’s real name. Story Box it is.

 

Salty, their golden retriever, followed Arthur before dancing around Mera. Mera smirked, “I see someone is happy to be home.”

 

“Oh yeah. He’s healthy and up to date on everything now.”

 

“Good.” She handed him the remote.

 

Taking the remote, he held it out for her to see. He pushed the red button and turned it off.

 

Mera crinkled her nose, “I saw that button. I did not wish to press it. Red is not a good color for pressing. It could have done damage.”

 

“Yeah. It might have set off nuclear weapons,” he put the remote down.

 

She put a hand on her hip, “you are making fun of me.”

 

He put a hand on his chest as if offended, “me?”

 

With a shake of her head, she roamed into the kitchen, checking the oven. Reaching for one of the drawers, she pulled out a cutting board and began chopping up some of the new vegetables. Arms snaked in front of her, his hands on hers as she began slicing.

 

Mera giggled, feeling his breath on her neck, “you know, this makes chopping more difficult.”

 

“Yeah, but sometimes I can be a romantic. With the right girl, anyway.”

 

“You want to be romantic with me?” She smiled gently.

 

“I always want to be romantic with you.”

 

They chopped the onions unevenly, at times slicing the cutting board more than the actual vegetable itself. Their hands entwined over the knife. She was more focused on his looming figure. The butterflies his intense focus managed to give her could just about make her blush. He kept his attention on how red her hair was and how brilliant her voice sounded when she spoke.

 

The oven dinged.

 

“Mood killer.” Arthur took his hand off of her and opened the oven.

 

He grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the dish out, setting it on a cool burner. Shutting the oven door, he stood beside her now, “want any help?”

 

“Yes, actually. Can you-“ she turned and then felt herself stumble backwards. Reaching to grip the counter, so she wouldn’t fall. Her hand slipped and she wobbled again.

 

Arthur was quick to get his hands on her, steadying her where she stood, “hey, what is it?”

 

Mera’s face had lost color. Pale, her eyes were groggy as her lips were close to the same color of her skin. Her hands suddenly shook, either from concern or whatever gripped her body.

    

     “I don’t know. I don’t feel well.”

 

     “Okay,” he cupped her face, “it’s okay. Why don’t you lay down?”

 

     Quickly, she put a hand out, grabbing his shoulder, “I feel...faint. I don’t know.”

 

     Arthur eased her down on the ground. She looked at him confused.

 

     Grabbing a chair from the kitchen table, he lifted her legs up on it, elevating her, “trust me, it helps.”

 

     Arthur sat on the ground before putting the back of his hand to her head. He did the same to her cheek, “you feel warm.”

 

     “I feel ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes.

 

     “You’re alright,” he reassured her. “Just me here. Okay? You’re a warrior. And as much as I love to watch your badass self kick some bad ass...you don’t have to be one right now.”

 

     “Warrior. Then I command enough of this nonsense.”

 

     “Yeah...that’s not how it works.” He watched as some of her color returned to her cheeks, “how are you feeling?”

 

     “A little better.”

 

     “Alright. Give it a few more minutes and then we’ll have you sit up slowly.”

 

     “I felt off this morning,” she suddenly remembered.

 

     “Why didn’t say anything?” His brow furrowed.

 

     “It passed quickly.” She eyed his upside down face from her awkward position on the floor, “or so I believed.”

 

     “Well,” his strong hands remained gentle, helping her sit up, “I’d say you need to take it easy.”

 

     “I haven’t-“

 

     “I can finish dinner. I’ve got two hands,” Arthur interjected, already knowing what she was going to say.

 

     Mera didn’t fully grasp the concept of taking it easy. Even during their talks of splitting time between land and sea, enjoying life together...they both knew how she could be. She had restless legs. There was always something she would find to do. A project. A mission, even if it was the ordinary type of homebound drudgery. She didn’t rest for long. Right now, for her health, Arthur had to push back so her condition didn’t worsen.

 

     “It’s just a dizzying spell,” she countered.

 

     “Yeah, well, we don’t need it worsening.”

 

     Taking her hands in his, when she was ready to stand, he helped her up. Legs wobbly beneath her, she grabbed his shoulder to steady herself again.

 

     “Okay. You’re alright,” he said in a low, soothing tone as he held her arms to steady her, “what are you feeling?”

 

     She shook her head, “it’s like my legs are bruised. It all aches.”

 

     “Probably caught something. A cold. Or flu. It’s normal when you’re up here.”

 

     An annoyed twitch of her brow was her response.

 

He gave her a half-sympathetic, half-amused smile, “let’s get you in bed.” Gently, he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her.

 

Defeated by the sensations of illness, Mera rested her head on Arthur’s shoulder. She then looked at him with a mischievous smile as he walked across the main room and began taking the stairs.

 

Arthur caught the look and lifted a brow, “what?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” she then laughed weakly, “it seems I have myself a servant in the house after all.”

 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” he shut the bedroom door with his shoe before adding, “damn, girl. You’re on a roll today.”

 

 

     “Xebellions are known for their humor,” she said facetiously.

 

     “Who knew?”

 

     Laying her on the bed, Arthur crossed the room to the dresser. Grabbing up one of her long green t-shirts, he went back to the bed, “let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

 

     “I can dress myself, Arthur.”

 

     He gave her an incredulous look.

 

     It lasted long enough for Mera to shift and feel her body yell at her for the slight movement. Her legs and arms had never felt so heavy.

 

     She bit her bottom lip, frustrated. Her cheeks became red.

 

     “Let me help you,” he said gently. “Just because someone helps you, it doesn’t make you helpless. Especially when that someone is me.”

 

     “I don’t like it.”

 

     Helping her sit up, he moved her legs over the side of the bed, “I know you don’t. And I wouldn’t either.”

 

Carefully, he unzipped her outfit, peeling it forward, freeing her arms. “Lift up.”

 

     Her muscles whined as she got her legs up, so he could finish getting her whole suit off. She felt out of breath from the tiny motion.

 

     “It’s alright,” he said trying not to show the concern he felt. One small action being such a strain was worrisome. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to seeing her, of all people, ill. “We’re almost there.”

 

     Grabbing up the t-shirt, he had her lift her arms. With care, he pulled it over her head and let the shirt flow down her body, “there, Girl. Much better for bed.”

 

     “Thank you,” she said softly.

 

     He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, his undeniable love written softly across his features.

 

 Moving to the other side of the bed, Arthur pulled the sheets back, “let’s get you inside.”

 

     Mera wiggled over to the open spot and he put the covers over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he brushed a piece of hair from her face, “do you feel hungry at all?”

 

     She shook her head.

 

     “I’ll take your temperature.”

 

     Heavy eyes, she nodded suddenly sleepily, “yes, that would be best.”

 

     “I’ll be back.”

 

     She yawned, “I’ll be here.”

 

     He left for no more than a minute to grab the thermometer, but upon his return Mera was sound asleep. Placing the thermometer on the nightstand, he decided sleep was its own medicine. Everything else could wait until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The thermometer sat under Mera’s tongue as she rested in bed with her concerned betrothed sitting by her side. Any hope she would sleep off the ailment plaguing her was dashed when Mera awakened with a clammy forehead. The pulsating of her head made every noise feel a hundred times louder. She was caught in a frustrating pattern of pulling the blankets up to warm herself only to rip them off from extreme heat.

 

Three little beeps came from the thermometer. Gently, Arthur reached forward and took it from her mouth. Reading it, he could feel Mera’s curious eyes on him, “you have a fever. It’s not too bad. Gonna keep an eye on it in case you have to see the doc,” He then added, “I’ll give you a cold bath. It might help lower it.”

 

She frowned, “that does not sound pleasant.”

 

“It’s not for Surface Dwellers, but you’ve swam through freezing water before without blinking. You might like it.”

 

She grinned dazed, “it will feel like home.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Her peaceful state passed, suddenly her knees were bent. Back arched, she dug her legs into the bed. Mera put a hand to her forehead frustrated.

 

“Hey. Hey,” Arthur reached forward with considerate hands, straightening her legs out, so she would relax. “Calm down. Sh-h-h-h. Just calm down.”

 

“Everything hurts,” she pulled at her red hair.

 

With ease, he took her weak hand and untangled it from her frazzled locks, “you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up.”

 

“It all hurts,” her hand tensed in his.

 

Arthur let her squeeze his hand, swallowing a lump in his throat, “yeah. I ah,” he cleared his throat, pushing back his emotions, “I think I was wrong about you not going to the doc.”

 

Mera shook her head, “I just ache. And it frustrates me.”

 

Bringing her fingers to his mouth, he placed a light kiss on her fingertips. Placing her hand on the bed, he made his way into the bathroom only to return with a damp cloth, “gonna turn you over.”

 

Curiously, she looked at him, but with the help of his free hand, he got her onto her side. Gently, he placed the cool cloth on the nape of her neck. Carefully, he reached his hand up her t-shirt and began rubbing her back soothingly. He felt her hot skin on his hand, focusing on areas where he heard a slight moan come from her lips.

 

“It’s all going to be alright,” he whispered.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 

He moved his hands down, getting her lower back, “for what?”

 

“For taking care of me.” She smirked, “for making me let you take care of me.”

 

“Ah,” he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, “well. That’s my honor.”

 

“Are you being romantic again?”

 

“Nah.” He said, “I’m being honest.”

 

Mera smiled to herself. She reached back with her limp hand and placed it gently to his cheek. Several of her fingers got caught in his brown hair along the way. He untangled her hand, and kissed it again, before tucking it away at her side, “get some rest.”

 

She nodded her head as Arthur went back to rubbing her back in circular, soothing motions.

 

***

 

Mera was fast asleep. Arthur decided the one cure for sickness he could trust was soup. The ingredients to the soup his father would make for him as a boy were not all stocked in the house. Quickly, he drove into town to get what was needed before she woke up. First, the missing vegetables. Celery and carrots had been left off of Mera’s list yesterday. He knew she would never forgive him if he didn’t get them from ‘Surface Dwellers who are actually respectful to our planet.’ She wasn’t wrong, but it was extra work stopping at two places. Getting out of the car, he quickly found the vegetables he was looking for, buying up the amount needed. As he turned to leave, a voice called out to him.

 

“You fiancé is not with you.”

 

Arthur turned around and saw the man with the long beard speaking. Arthur remembered him. He was the one who gave Mera her first taste of strawberries.

 

“Mera is home sick. I’m just grabbing a few things to make her some soup,” he gave him a wave, hoping to end the conversation so he could get back before she awoke to an empty house.

 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the man said not getting the hint, “I hope she gets well before the end of the Farmer’s Market.”

 

“She’s pretty sick. In fact, I have to get back to her.”

 

“What a pity. Never seen someone so happy shopping here before. Kind of customer we love to sell to. Hate to not say goodbye.”

 

Arthur blinked. Okay. Yeah, Farmer’s Markets were nice and all. Whatever. But it wasn’t actually like the carnival _had_ come to town. They had a perfectly good store that sold organic vegetables. He understood, to an extent, Mera’s fixation. It _was_ a carnival to her, what with her misgivings about the Surface Dwellers. Still, these trips were starting to become intense. Needs instead of desires. Then again, he and Mera were royal. It came with interesting...appreciation. Or hatred. At times it was hard to tell the difference.

 

“I’m sure she’ll be fine either way,” Arthur started to walk away.

 

“Well, have her take some strawberries,” his wife suddenly rushed over to him with a carton.

 

Arthur put a hand up, “it’s alright. We’ve got enough. Thanks.”

 

“Oh. I insist. They’re on the house. I know just how much she loves them,” she said hospitably. “It’ll be another year before we’re here again.”

 

Arthur took them without choice, “Sure.”

 

The woman smiled at him.

 

Arthur walked away, trying not to look over his shoulder. Feeling their eyes on the back of his neck.

 

Turning the corner, he walked away until he found a trashcan and dumped the carton of strawberries inside. New England hospitality or not, that was freaking weird even for him.

 

***

 

Pillows propping Arthur’s pale love up, Mera moved her head as the spoon full of soup came towards her mouth.  

 

“You need to eat,” Arthur encouraged her as held the warm bowl in his hand. He sat on the bed patiently, watching as she shook her head like a stubborn child being told to clean her room. “Come on, you haven’t had anything today.”

 

She full on pouted at him.

 

He lifted both his eyebrows amused by the expression. Truthfully, he found her pouts to be both adorable and sexy. Right now, despite his impulses, he had to be the logical, firm one here, “if I were doing that you’d say I was being an imbecile.”

 

Mera folded her arms, displeased with his unwillingness to budge, “I can’t get anything down.”

 

“Mera, look. I know it’s hard. But you can’t get better if you starve to death.” The outline of a full glass of water from the nightstand caught his eye, “and you haven’t touched your water,” he said as an attempt to scold her. Arthur looked at her with an intense stare; however, she only returned the same intimidating expression back at him.

 

Setting the soup on the nightstand, he picked up the cool glass, “you’re supposed to love water. You live in it, remember?”

 

“I was sleeping,” she said.

 

“You look pretty awake to me.”

 

Mera couldn’t argue with that, so she pouted again.

 

“Come on. I know you’re not feeling good,” he managed to make his voice firmer, “but you’ve got to do this if you want to get better. Open up,” he said bringing the glass to her chapped lips.

 

Relenting, she let the glass touch her lips. Her parched throat sucked down the water until she couldn’t take more. A few droplets dribbled down her chin as she began to cough.

 

Putting the water glass back on the nightstand, Arthur leaned her forward and gently patted her back, helping her cough attack along, “good job,” he reassured her. “You got almost all of it down.”

 

If she hadn’t been too busy coughing, she would have rolled her eyes at being patronized. Of course, the minute he stopped patting her back, she gripped his arm to keep him from moving it away.

 

“Ah, you want it both ways then,” he said, patting her back gently again.

 

Apparently, he had sensed her annoyance.

 

“Always,” was her only answer. She rested her head against his forearm. His motions comforting.

 

He continued this motion for several moments before speaking, “you still have to eat, you know?”

 

Arthur expected her to pout again, but it seemed her cagey, defensive side had been quelled for the time being. All he got was a silent nod from her.

 

Resting her back against the pillow, he reached for the soup bowl and picked it up, “take two. You ready?”

 

She nodded again.

 

“You sure? You’re not gonna move your head at the last second?”

 

“I’m not,” Her eyes flicked up for a second as if he were being absurd.

 

“Okay.” He got the soup on the spoon and moved it towards her mouth.

 

As it graced her lips, Mera immediately whipped her head to the side. Soup sloshed over the spoon and dripped onto her t-shirt. She laughed lightly.

 

Arthur tried to keep his face from looking amused, though he did a bad job of it as his lips began to curl, “I hope that was worth it. Now we’ve got laundry.”

 

“It was,” she smiled. Then clarified, “you have laundry.”

 

“Uh-huh.” He said, “I think this virus is getting to your brain. You’re being very immature,” his voice didn’t match the words. The twinkle in his eye told her he was slightly endeared by her behavior.

 

“No. You should be used to me by now. I know what I want. And what I don’t want, for that matter. And that’s soup.”

 

“Too bad,” he moved the spoon towards her lips.

 

She glared at him, but this time obliged his actions by taking the spoon into her mouth. With a swallow, she smiled at him, “happy?”

 

“Getting there,” he brought another spoonful to her lips.

 

Mera gave him a pointed look.

 

He returned the expression.

 

She took the soup into her mouth and swallowed, “you do make good soup. If I wasn’t sick I would be able to appreciate it more.”

 

Arthur smiled softly at the compliment, “that’s okay.”

 

“I appreciate you doing all this work to make it,” she said now that she had filled her quota of being fresh with him for the evening.

 

“Thanks, Babe. For the, ah, appreciation. I just want you to feel better,” he said bringing the spoon to her mouth.

 

As she took another bite, Arthur watched as the color drained from her face completely. He didn’t have time to duck and cover. Suddenly, everything that had gone down sprayed back up onto his shirt. The spoon falling in her lap.

 

Her head fell back against the pillow, closing her eyes for a second as a dizzy spell came over her. She didn’t realize Arthur had even gotten up and left until she felt a wet cloth gently dabbing away vomit from her mouth.

 

Opening her eyes, she watched him put a hand to her forehead.

 

“Your shirt,” she said.

 

“Sh-h-h,” he hushed her gently, “it’ll wash. You feel okay? I can get you to the bathroom.”

 

She put a hand up, “no. It’s. I’m good. Now.”

 

He brushed her sticky hair out of her face, her forehead damp with perspiration.

 

Mera then added, “I told you I couldn’t get anything down.”

 

Arthur leaned forward and kissed her forehead despite the illness, “yeah. You win this round.” Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the bed again, “I should take you to urgent care.”

 

She shook her head, “it’s a flu. There’s nothing urgent about it.”

 

“Mera. You can’t eat. You have a fever. You’re going.”

 

“It will pass. My temperature hasn’t risen enough to need to go, Arthur. There’s no need to fuss.”

 

“I love you, but you’re being stubborn.”

 

“No, I am being practical. You don’t want it to get out there that I’m ill.”

 

“Enemies are going to rain down on us or something?”

 

“You mock, but if they see either of us as weak, one might use it to their advantage.”

 

Arthur chewed it over. “I will give it another day. If you haven’t improved at all... we’re going.”

 

Appeasing him, Mera managed to nod. Reached out, she tugged on his sleeve, “come lay down and rest, my Love. I’ve had you running around.”

 

He caressed her cheek in return. He got his shirt off and disappeared into the hall, throwing it in the wash right away. He then made his way back into the bedroom and crawled into his side of the bed. He scooted towards Mera, putting his arms around her.

 

“You might not want to get too close. In case I’m contagious,” she warned.

 

“I’ve already kissed your head. The damage is done.”

 

“More damage could be done.”

 

 “Come here,” he said.

 

 She snuggled up against him in response, not wanting to fight emotion with logic. More than anything, she wanted him. With that, she rested her head on his chest.

 

 Wrapping his arms around her securely, he kissed the top of her head once more, “you’re worth the risk.”

 

 Smiling, Mera was soon asleep.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

     Wailing accosted Arthur’s ears. Bolt upright, he felt the thrashing weight of his troubled Queen. Flicking on the light, he saw she was drenched in sweat, trapped in unconsciousness. Her legs kicked helplessly against the bed, her fists pounding against the headboard. Unaware of her own actions. Unable to stop them. Lost in pain.

 

     “Mera!” Arthur swung his leg over her, careful not to crush her smaller form.

 

     Taking her arms in his hands, her legs trapped beneath his body, her head whipped back and forth as she continued to howl.

 

     “Mera! Mera! Wake up,” he raised his voice, trying to break through to her. She continued to cry out. He saw in her face there was not only pain. There was terror. “Mera, wake up! Wake up!” He shook her, careful not to be too rough on her sickly body.

 

     Eyes snapping open, she gasped upon seeing his face. Her legs and arms stopped fighting against him. Mera was still. Frozen. Until her face contorted, and soft tears fell past her eyes. Unable to control the rush of emotion she normally compartmentalized until emotion compartmentalized her.

 

     Arthur put his arm around her neck, bringing her to his shoulder, letting her weep. He rubbed her back while she sobbed heavily, all the while rocking her. Arthur didn’t try to calm the storm, but rather allowed it to rain down on him until she could speak. It lasted several minutes; then she was hiccupping from the tears. He held her anyway. The tears were stopping, but that didn’t mean the comfort was unneeded, “you’re alright. Just calm down,” he finally said as they reached a state where she might be able to speak. “Just calm down,” he said soothingly again.

 

     Mera brushed her cheek against his shoulder, desperately clutching onto his sides.

 

     Carefully, he peeled her off of him, only so he could look her in the face. Placing a hand to her forehead, unsurprisingly, she still felt hot./p>

 

    “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice almost panicked.

 

    “What don’t I understand?”

 

   “Their mouths. The teeth!” She grabbed at his arms.

 

   “Okay. Okay.” He took her hands in his, “it’s okay.”

 

   “No, Arthur. You have to listen to me!”

 

   Arthur squeezed her hand, his eyes focused on her intently, “I’m listening.”

 

   “They’re waiting. Their mouths are so blue. And their teeth, Arthur...I’ve never seen anything like it!”

 

   He nodded slowly, he moved his hands up her arms and rubbed her shoulders, “you have a fever. It’s giving you bad dreams.”

 

   She bent her head back and closed her eyes, tears pooling at the lids.

 

  “I know,” he tried to get her focus, gently lifting his finger to her chin, “I know it’s scary.”

 

   Mera opened her eyes, looking at him with deep annoyance.

 

   Oh, he recognized _this_ Mera.

 

   She didn’t have time to chastise him. Her legs were kicking again, the pain thundering through her body. She tilted her head back and wailed out another cry.

 

   “Mera. What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

   She couldn’t say anything. She could only thrash from the burning pain accosting every nerve. Until finally, she shrieked, “make it stop!”

 

   Grabbing her up in his arms, Arthur rushed her down the stairs and out the door. Bolting across town to the hospital. He was getting his love to a doctor!

 

***

 

    Rushing through the entrance of the emergency room caught the desk clerk’s attention. She stood up at once and ordered the clerk beside her, “page doctor Henderson.”

 

     Arthur hurried to the front desk with Mera laying limp in his arms. Her fits of pain having worn her out, she gazed upon the empty waiting room chairs and saw them double.

 

     “She needs a doctor. I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s been sick, but she’s in a lot of pain now,” Arthur explained.

 

     A nurse rounding the corner heard the plight and hurried over, grabbing a wheelchair along the way, “let’s get her in exam room 2.”

 

     Gently, Arthur placed her in the wheelchair. A small whine came from her voice as he set her down, her hand clinging to his arm.

 

     “It’s okay,” Arthur said, “they need to take a look at you to help.”

 

     “Come with me,” even in her scared, sicken state, it was clearly more of an order than a request.

 

     The nurse wheeled her into the exam room, Arthur following behind.

 

     The nurse took Mera’s blood pressure and put the thermometer under her tongue. When the machine beeped, she unstrapped Mera’s arm and took the thermometer out.

 

     “Your temperature is very high. We’ll have to set you up with an IV. Get you hydrated.”

 

     Arthur would have snorted at the thought of someone water born being dehydrated, but he didn’t have time. Mera threw a fit.

 

     “No!” She stood up, her legs wobbling causing her to crash back into the wheelchair. The wheelchair rocked backwards into the wall due to the force.

 

     Startled, the nurse took a step back.

 

     “Mera,” Arthur knelt down in front of her, “hey.”

 

     She shook her head rapidly, hands coming up to pull at her face.

 

     “Mera,” he moved her hands back down to her lap. He then placed his own hand gently on her cheek, “look at me.”

 

     She kept her gaze off of him while focusing to the side of the room. Her face red, eyes welling up again.

 

     “Look at me,” he said kindly.

 

     Mera looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

 

     “You can’t get better if you don’t let them help you. It’s just a little needle. Barley even hurts.”

 

     “I said no,” she was firm.

 

     Arthur knew he had to calm her. If they came at her with that needle when she wasn’t ready, there was much worse things she could do than scream and cry.

 

     “You don’t like how you’re feeling right now, do you?”

 

     She folded her arms stubbornly.

 

     “You want that feeling to go away, right?”

 

     She glared at him.

 

     “This is one way they can make it stop, but no one is going to be able to do that,” he stopped himself and then corrected, “no one is going to _dare_ do it if you’re having a tantrum.”

 

     She wiped her eyes.

 

     Arthur felt his heart sink. This was not Mera. No way a freaking needle would scare her. And even if it did, she was stoic. She was to be feared, not to be afraid. Even though she was combative right now, it was out of pure terror. Over a tiny needle. He had seen her take weapons out of herself more annoyed that it had damaged her suit than her skin. What the hell was happening to her?

 

_Blue mouths._

     He was beginning to think this was not the doctor they needed to be seeing.

 

     Stabilize her. Then get her to Atlantis.

 

     “I need you to promise me you’re going to let them help you. That you won’t use any hydrokensis. That you won’t kick and fight.”

 

     “But I want to,” she tightened her arms around her middle.

 

     Arthur almost smirked, “I know you want to. You don’t get to.” He paused, “what’s bothering you? Why are you so scared?”

 

     Puzzlement fell across her features, her brows twitching, mouth frowning. She placed her head in her hands, squeezing her hair, “I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t know. I just can’t.”

 

     He swallowed, “okay. Well. I’ll help you.”

 

     She looked up at him slowly, “how?”

 

     “Ah,” he tried not to look too perplexed. “Well,” he stumbled over his words. How the hell was he going to help his sick, warrior Queen get over her sudden random phobia before she unleashed hell on the hospital staff? Should be easy enough to solve...

 

Coming up with something, he smirked slyly. Taking her hand in his, he stretched it out and kissed her knuckles, “I can be pretty distracting. Charming. Won you over, right?”

 

     “You flatter yourself.”

 

     “Hey, who thought who was an annoying drunk, but then couldn’t get over how handsome they were?”

 

     She lifted an eyebrow, “that’s not how it happen-Hey! No!” She yelled.

 

     The nurse had come to her side, placing a rubber tie around her arm.

 

     “You gotta be more subtle than that,” Arthur rolled his eyes.

 

     Mera’s eyes changed to blue.

 

     “None of that!” Arthur tightened his grip on her hand, so she couldn’t move it for the nurse. Using the other one, he held her down.

 

     “Arthur! Stop it! Stop!”

 

     “Just one second. It’ll be over.”

 

     Mera kicked out her legs, but Arthur caught her ankles between his knees.

 

     She glared at him, “I want a divorce.”

 

     “That’s gonna be hard. We’re not married.”

 

     The needle went in, causing Mera to bite her lip. The Nurse taped down the IV and quickly got out of the way.

 

     Arthur didn’t release Mera until he felt the tension in her body dissipate. Letting go of her legs and arms, he watched her heave a sigh and eyes return to their normal hue.

 

     She gave him a pointed look, “I trusted you.”

 

     “Good thing you did. Now you won’t die of dehydration.”

 

     “You should have just put me back in the ocean.”

 

     “You’re not strong enough for that.”

 

     “Perhaps, it would make me stronger.”

 

     “Or not. I’m not taking the risk of a medium size wave crushing you.”

 

     “You are dramatic.”

 

     He looked at the scuff mark on the wall her wheelchair outburst had caused, “yeah. That’s me. Dramatic.”

 

     Looking at the hospital bed, he took her up in his arms, “let’s get you comfortable.”

 

     Mera let him carry her over to the bed. He took the blanket and covered her up, “they’ll probably want to get you into a dressing gown. Or is that another cause for alarm?”

 

     She looked towards the window.

 

     Arthur sighed, “I’m sorry. You’re just. None of this is like you.”

 

     She didn’t respond.

 

     “You ignoring me now?” he pressed.

 

     Mera pursed her lips, “I don’t want to divorce you.”

 

     Arthur smirked and took her hand, “I kinda had a feeling.”

    

    “I’m sorry.”

 

     He squeezed her hand.

 

    “I don’t know why I got so scared,” Mera continued.

 

     “Eh. That’s alright. Shit happens.”

 

     “I don’t know why I’m combative over trivial things.”

 

     “You’re sick.”

 

     “People get sick and don’t behave in such a way.”

 

     “What are you saying?”

 

     She looked at him, “something is wrong with me.”

 

     He knew.

 

     “The doctors will figure it out.”

 

     Mera closed her eyes and saw figures with blue mouths and sharp teeth.

***

 

    “We ran several tests and it appears to be the run of the mill flu,” Doctor Henderson stood in front of Mera’s bed with her chart in his hand.

 

     Arthur stood gripping her hand while the bed had been adjusted, so she could sit up.

 

     “What about her actions before? Her waking up screaming? The franticness when she was given her IV? You’re telling me there’s nothing?” Arthur asked. He felt Mera squeeze his hand, trying to calm him. Arthur took note of her hand, remembering she was here. She was the one who was sick. He was the one who needed to be strong. He had expected these results. He had expected the doctors would not find answers. They _couldn’t_ find answers. They either lacked the technology or the knowledge.

 

     “You had an exceptionally high fever when you came to us,” Doctor Henderson looked directly at the Red Head, not wanting to speak about her as though she were not in the room, “there have been cases where that garners behavioral changes.”

 

     Arthur took in what he was saying, but in his gut he wasn’t believing it. Mera hadn’t merely had a behavior change. She had gone in and out of being a different person. Pressing the matter seemed pointless. They had found nothing in the tests. This doctor could offer them nothing more. If they wanted answers, they weren’t going to find them here. He just needed to get her stronger.

 

     “The good news is your temperature is lowering. Once the fever breaks, we’ll be able to discharge you.”

 

     “Thank you,” Mera said as the doctor left.

 

     Arthur looked at her and gave her a calming smile. He placed his hand against her cheek gently.

 

     Mera met his hand with her own, returning the smile. She then sighed, “I wish we could just go home now.”

 

     “Your fever will break soon.”

 

     “I like my own bed better,” she frowned.

 

     She didn’t feel comfortable here. The walls felt like they were caving in on her. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The instinct to run outside towards fresh air plagued her legs. If they didn’t ache fiercely, she knew she would have taken off by now.

 

     “Sit tight. You’ll be in your bed soon. Until then, we can find familiarity in each other.”

 

     Mera looked up at him and she knew he was right. He was here. She focused on him. As she studied his face, she felt her heart calm slightly. His calming presence centering her again. Mera scooted over a little and patted the space on the bed beside her.

 

     Arthur climbed onto the bed and put his arms around her securely, letting her rest against him once more. Comforting her, while his thoughts haunted him. She wasn’t herself. She continued to not be herself. Moments of her fierce nature would surface, only to be brought down by childlike tears of terror. She was ill, but he had seen her hurt before. Her stoicism never broke. It was as though she were being weakened physically and mentally.

 

     She was right. Something was wrong and he needed to get her stable enough, so he could bring her to Atlantis and find out.

 

     For now, all he could do was hold her.

 

 

 

 

    

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Editors Note: Look at me. Adding a chapter! I've had some personal madness happening. I said to myself, "self, you're not going to start publishing this fic until everything is calm and you know you can dedicate your time to it." And that's what I did, but the pesky thing about life is it's unpredictable. You never know when it's going to throw you a curveball. Or three. But I'm updating. I'm not abandoning. I want to write more chapters this weekend, and I have a few others ready to go too. So, here it is. Chapter Four of this three part series.)

Sitting up straight, Mera was dressed in a fresh pair of clothes Arthur had fetched while she slept. There was color back in her cheeks, but her body still ached. With her fever broken, the doctors saw no reason why she couldn’t recuperate under Arthur’s care.

Mera smiled up at him, “we can finally go home. I get my bed back.”

“Yeah. But in Atlantis.” Arthur leaned forward and stroked her cheek, “your warm bed in Atlantis.”

“Do you have duties there?” She asked.

“My duty is to you right now. Call me paranoid, but I just want to be sure everything’s alright.”

“And they have better technology.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I get there?”

Arthur took her by the arm and helped lead her tired body out of the hospital room, “gonna have to put up with me leading you,” he said as they made their way towards exit. “Just this once,” he added with a wink.

“I suppose that is acceptable.” She then added with a wink of her own, “just this once.”

Arm around her, they walked through the small town towards the water. She rested her head on his shoulder, cuddling up to him as the brisk New England air nipped at her cheeks. It was nice out. Refreshing. Making their way past the Farmer’s Market, Mera saw a sign announcing their last day.

“We should get strawberries for Atlantis.”

“We have some at home,” he said curtly.

“They may go bad by the time we get back.”

“I’ll get you some from the store.”

“It is hardly the same.”

Arthur shook his head.

“What? Are you allergic suddenly?” Mera asked.

“No. I’m not allergic. It’s weird.”

“Strawberries are weird?”

“No. I don’t know. Somethin’ is weird.”

“That is hardly a sound rebuttal,” Mera nudged him with her hip.

“They’re freaking strange people, Mera.”

“They were nice to me.”

“Too nice.”

“What is too nice?” Mera lifted her head and looked at him.

“The interest they took in you. When you were sick. They were adamant about seeing you again, or getting you more of their strawberries.”

“Oh, they gave me more?” Her voice lightened.

Arthur looked off awkwardly, “I misplaced them.”

Mera raised a brow unconvinced, “what you call ‘taking too much of an interest’ others call being friendly.”

  
“That right?”

“Yes. But I knew you had an allergy.”

“An allergy?” He looked at her puzzled.

“Yes, an allergy to friendliness.”

“That’s not true. I have friends. You have friends. We have friends together.”

“You do? Such as the Justice League? And how many times have you called on them for help when you've needed it?”

“How did this become a conversation about my trust issues?”

Mera hugged his arms to her as they neared the beach, “all I’m saying is sometimes people trying to give us strawberries is just...people trying to give us strawberries.”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes you have to trust your gut.”

“It is bizarre when it is not me being the stubborn one.”

"A little role reversal helps every relationship,” he quipped before grinning, “I learned that from the Story Box.”

She rolled her eyes good naturedly as they reached the water. Arthur’s arm securely around her waist, they walked through the waves together before diving deep into the dark recesses of the ocean.

***

“We can’t detect anything out of the ordinary. She is certainly ill, but as far as I can tell, it appears to be a virus,” the Atlantean doctor stood in front of the King and Queen.

Upon arrival, Arthur had taken Mera to their bedroom and summoned a doctor. His hope was she would be calmer in more comfortable areas. For the most part, she had been happy enough in her own bed and away from the sterile setting of the infirmary. Now, she lay against her pillows, blanket pulled to her chin.

“The tests showed nothing?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” the doctor replied.

“Thank you.”

With the doctor dismissed, he left the King and Queen to themselves.

Mera rolled her eyes.

“What is it? That was good news,” he said.

“They gave me another needle,” she narrowed her gaze upon Arthur displeased.

 

“Hey. What’s that look for? I didn’t give it to yah!”

Mera chewed that over and relented with a nod. Sure, Arthur, being King, could have told them not to give the needle to her. Then again, being Queen she could have ordered them not to give it to her too. Logic persisted. Mera knew this time around such behavior would be counterproductive.

“Besides, you were very brave this time,” Arthur added as he reached over and patted her hand.

She crinkled her nose, “speaking to me as though I am a child will end poorly for you. Do not think that just because we are together does not mean I won’t suck out all the water from you. I am happy to do it.”

A slow smile fell over his face, “that sounds more like you. Maybe you’re starting to get better.”

There was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

The Guards stationed outside opened the entryway up for their visitor. Vulko made his way inside with an empathetic smile on his face.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you are needed,” he said to Arthur with a slight bow. “There’s a few things the council wishes to discuss.”

“Isn’t there always?” He sighed and looked at Mera.

Mera patted his hand in similar fashion to how he had previously reassured her, “go, my Love. I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur said, “because if you need me-“

Mera interjected with a shake of her head, “you can’t use me to get out of your duties.”

Arthur responded with a childish scoff.

Mera playfully rolled her eyes before adding with a sincere note, “you are needed elsewhere. It is as you said. I’m getting better. The tests were fine. I’m only tired. You will not miss anything.”

“Okay,” he leaned over and kissed her forehead, “sleep. When you wake, I’ll be sitting here like I never left.”

She smiled at him, “dangerous promise for a King to make.”

He stroked her cheek, “if I get any say, I’ll keep it.”

“I know you will try.”

Standing up, he looked over his shoulder as he crossed the room. Mera had already fallen into a deep sleep. It was good. She needed it. Turning to Vulko, he paused, “can you stay with her? At least for a little while. I just want to be sure she’s really alright.”

Vulko nodded his head understandingly, “it would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you.”

One last glance over his shoulder, the sight of Mera sleeping peacefully put him at ease. He exited the bedroom to fulfill his duties as King.

***

Conferring with the council dragged on as the fight for their King’s attention, to each specific area one member represented, heated.

“One at a time!” Arthur demanded, “my dog communicates better than you people”.

The talking stopped for a moment. Several Atlanteans looking between each other wondering what a dog was. A moment later and the chaotic chatter resumed.

At this point, Arthur had lost track of how many times he had tried to gain organization. Here and there he could catch a word that would entice his attention. If he was really lucky, he could then silence the room to allow the specific member to proceed. The minute they finished saying their peace, the room would erupt in battle for the King’s attention once more. The process would continue until, eventually, most were heard.

A half hour into the battle for the King’s attention, the door was thrown open. Before Aquaman could question the interruption, a guard bounded in urgently.

“My King, you must come quick!”

“What is it? I’m in the middle of an important meeting,” Aquaman indicated the Council. “I think.” He paused, “I don’t really know what they’re saying actually,” he shrugged.

“It’s Mera!”

Those two words were all the Guard had to say. Arthur was out of the room before anyone could register it. Bounding across the castle, he reached Mera’s room, throwing the door’s open to her sick bed.

Mera lay, thrashing upon the mattress, dark black and blue bruises covered her arms and throat. Chocking, her hands grabbing at her neck, as though trying to pry someone off of her. Her legs kicking desperately, attempting to break away.

Vulko stood over Mera, trying to hold her by the shoulders, “I can’t wake her up! I don’t know what’s happening!”

Arthur bolted forward, Vulko quickly stepping out of the way. Mera kicked the blanket off, her legs in the same sordid state as her arms. Her veins seeming to pop out of her skin, dark blue lines pulsating from her body.

“Somebody do something!” Arthur screamed over his shoulder.

Mera’s eyes snapped open, looking not at Arthur, but through him. Her lips began turning blue, “get them off of me...”

“Nothing is on you. It’s okay,” Arthur looked over his shoulder, “where’s the doctor?”

Reaching her hands forward, she clawed at Arthur’s shoulders, seeking his attention. He whipped his head back. Mera grabbed onto him for dear life, her legs kicking against the bed, “they’re taking me. Arthur...” her voice trailed off. Her chest tightened as her eyes bore into him, begging him to stop this madness.

“No one is taking you. I won’t let them.”

Her eyes changed, morphing into a frosty blue. Tilting her head, she screamed a hollowing pitch. Everyone ducked their heads, covering their ears in pain. The windows of the castle crashed open.

Mera collapsed back against the bed, unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

     “Mera is showing signs of an ancient Atlantean disease known as _Ab Intus Manducana_. Which means Eating from the Inside.”

 

     Arthur and the Atlantean doctor stood in the hallway outside of the royal bedroom. Arthur’s posture was straighter than it normally was upon the surface. His Kingly stance. His arms were now folded, ready to fight, a universal sign wherever he was stationed. He didn’t know what he was going to fight, but there was a course of action that would be taken.

 

     The doctor carried himself with ease, looking sympathetic and compassionate.

 

     “How did you miss it?” Arthur demanded.

 

     “There hasn’t been a case of _Ab Intus Manducans_ in well over a hundred years. The disease does not show up on tests.”

 

     “So, what do we do? How do we cure her?”

 

     “We’ve made her comfortable. There is a tonic she can take.” The doctor pursed his lips before adding carefully, “for a short time. The tonic will give her relief from the symptoms.”

 

     “While we cure her.”

 

     Empathy increased in the doctor’s eyes, “I’m sorry, my King. Making her comfortable is all we can do. My hope is she will pass before the tonic is unable to do its work.”

 

     Arthur’s jaw clenched deeply. He sucked in breath before taking a dangerous step forward, “you dare to tell me that the love of my entire existence is going to die while you do nothing!” Arthur’s eyes narrowed with an intense threat. “Hell. No. You are going to try! That’s an order!”

 

     The doctor didn’t move, standing his ground before a man who was only just beginning to grieve the loss of his greatest love, “it is not that I will not try. It is that there is nothing to try. There has never been a cure.”

 

“Never finding a cure doesn’t mean there can’t be a cure to find! And yet you’re still standing here. You’re freaking Atlantis! Look at all this shit!” He spread his arms out, “and you wanna tell me medicine is limited? You won’t try and make discoveries? You don’t care enough to help your Queen? Or is it cause she’s from Xebel? Is that it?”

 

     The door to the bedroom opened and closed quickly. Vulko stepped outside.

 

The Doctor didn’t flinch, his voice remaining even, “I understand you are hurting, my King. I assure you I take my position as a healer very seriously. I would never do anything that would harm, Queen Mera. If there was _anything_ I could do. I would.”

 

Arthur’s eyes blazed, but before he could ream out the doctor, he felt a hand on his arm.

 

“Don’t. Please. Mera sleeps and I do not want her to wake up. She needs her strength if she is going to fight back.”

 

Vulko’s words were the only offering of hope Arthur had heard. At least someone wasn’t killing her off. Even if it didn’t come from the doctor, it was hope, and from someone who knew Mera well. Mera could fight back. She took nothing lying down. She was a woman of great conviction. If anyone could, and would, look fate in the eye and tell it to get lost, it was her.

 

“What could have caused Mera to become sick with a disease thought to be eradicated?” Arthur asked through clenched teeth.

 

Thankful Vulko had interjected his, quite likely, being pushed against a wall, The Doctor proceeded professionally, “Ingesting a food, or drink, that was contaminated was how people were infected in the past.”

 

“I don’t understand how a disease can disappear without a cure.”

 

“People who were infected died. The origin of the disease itself remains unknown. There was something interesting in my research of the disease.”

 

Arthur looked at him expectantly.

 

The doctor carried on, “all the patients rambled on about the same vision.”

 

“Vision? Of people with blue mouths?” Arthur asked, though his voice indicated he already knew the answer.

 

The Doctor was not surprised, “The Queen has done the same?”

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“I don’t know. It only a theory. But my. My belief is the disease is connected to these beings. These beings either are the disease or the inflictors. What made them go away hundreds of years ago is lost. What has made them return is a mystery. Has anything been different for you, or Mera, while you were on the surface?”

 

Arthur’s face became stern. The Farmer’s Market. The Strawberries. Mera’s fixation with them. Their fixation with her. “yeah, it has.”

 

“Perhaps, that is your link...the hope you seek...of fighting the disease.”

 

“You think these creatures are back and responsible for this shit? That’s what she’s seeing. The face of her aggressor?” Arthur clarified.

 

“It’s a theory, but why else would everyone see the same beings when ill?” The doctor asked.

 

Turning towards Vulko, Arthur gave an order, “look after, Mera.”

 

Arthur charged down the hallway.

 

“What if she wakes up?” Vulko called to him.

 

“Tell her I love her. Tell her I will be back for her. Always.”

 

Vulko watched him shoot off, hoping he would return with better bearings.

 

***

 

     Forcing his way through the happy-go-lucky crowd of the Farmer’s Market, Arthur powered towards the stand of the middle aged couple. People cleared out of his way, some looked on with annoyance while he saw a space empty where the couple had once been. Whipping his head around, peering frantically in one direction, and then the other, the couple was nowhere to be found.

 

     Charging towards the stand diagonal to where the couple had been stationed, he interrupted a sale’s transaction occurring.

 

     “Where are they?” Arthur asked in a dangerous tone.

 

     “Hey, Buddy, I was here first,” the burly man, who Aquaman cut off, growled out.

 

     Arthur ignored him, “where are they?”

    

     “Where is who?” The woman running the stand asked both slightly afraid and aggravated.

 

     “The people with the stand over there,” Arthur pointed diagonal, “where did they go?”

 

     “I don’t know. They packed up and left yesterday.”

 

     “Where did they go?”

 

     “I don’t write down everyone’s address. I don’t know those people.”

 

     Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned and walked away.

 

     The woman shook her head puzzled.

 

     “What the hell was that about?” Her customer asked.

 

     “I guess he really likes strawberries...”

 

 

***

 

     Carefully rising, Mera hobbled across the room with painful steps on aching legs. Her sunken eyes looked out at the fuzzy room. The bruises remained along her body, but she no longer felt searing discomfort and suffocation. Her frail body suffered exhaustion as her mind felt cloudy. Mera forced her steps forward.

 

     A gentle hand took her by the arm, “you need to get back in bed.”

 

     Mera looked to Vulko, “where is Arthur?”

 

     “He will be back soon. Please, get back into bed.”

 

     “I have only been in bed. I tire of rooms and lying about. I wish for a walk with my love.” Mera pleaded.

 

     Vulko put both his hands on Mera’s arms, looking her in the face, “I know it’s hard, but one cannot get better if they exhaust an already exhausted body.”

 

     “I do nothing all the time. Should I not be more than this?”

 

     “Resting is not doing nothing. Your body needs rest to thrive again. It is why rest is the number one action a doctor tells their patients to complete.”

 

     “Rest. An action. What a paradox,” she shook her head.

 

     “Mera, please. You need to do this for your sake. For those who love you. And care about you. Arthur...Myself. Atlanna.”

 

     Mera swallowed before giving in by turning her body towards her bed.

 

     Leading her back, Vulko helped Mera beneath the covers.

 

     “Where did Arthur go?” Mera asked as she laid against the pillows.

 

     “He had something to take care of,” Vulko stated vaguely.

 

     Mera watched as Vulko’s eyes, slightly, darted away slightly.

 

     Vulko then returned her gaze, too much forced calm across his features, “but he said to tell you that he loves you. He will be back for you.”

 

     Something was very wrong. She could see it in Vulko’s eyes. She could feel it in Arthur’s strange disappearance. She was not a fool, but her sickness made everyone treat her as such.

 

     She looked down, wishing for her beloved anyway. Even in his frustrating, well-intentioned means of softening blows, she felt comforted by him. She didn’t feel so...scared. But she was alone and he was nowhere to be-

 

     A bigger, warm hand took her’s.

 

     Heart light, Mera lifted her chin. Her eyes met Arthur’s kind ones, “my love,” she said softly.

 

     Arthur smiled. Leaning forward, he placed a long, sorrowful kiss on her forehead.

 

     Many times he had kissed her, but today she felt the difference in his lips.

 

     As he leaned back, she looked at him and bluntly said, “I am dying.”

 

     “No,” he answered firmly.

 

     “You are a bad liar. You are too forceful when you speak. As though you fight against truth.”

 

     “Everything has a cure,” he refused to listen.

 

     “How long do I have?”

 

     “Mera, no...”

 

     Arthur’s face suffered beneath her question. She had never seen it so pain stricken. He did not cry, but she could see that he _was_ crying. Mera pulled him close to him. Her arms lifeless, but she pulled him towards her, nevertheless. He rested in her arms.

 

     She put her hands through his long, soft locks, “you will be okay, my love. You are strong. You have always had to be. Before me. You will be after me. You will love again. I wish it for you. You have that blessing from me. Life and love. You will be okay. Far away, in another world, I will watch you with such pride. And such joy.”

 

     He looked up at her, his face set in sternness, “I will find a cure!”

 

     With gentle arms, she rubbed his back and cradled his head against her chest.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's Note: There is one reference to the Aquaman comics in this chapter. It's from Rebirth. So, when you're wondering why you don't remember Mera breaking Arthur out of prison in the movie, that would be why. ha! Also, formatting, it loves to respect my indents for the beginning of a paragraph sometimes, and not other times, and I'll drive myself crazy trying to fix it all the time. Sooo, hopefully it doesn't drive you too crazy. Eep! )

 

     Arthur had been studying Mera since the moment she had first kissed him. He loved how she mouthed the words silently to herself when she read. He loved the way bit the bottom of her lip when thinking over a particularly complicated answer. He adored how she stamped her foot when they were bickering about nonsensical subjects for the sake of idle conversation. It was the thousandth time now that he noticed how she mumbled to herself in her sleep. Often, he would try to make out what she was saying, a game with himself. One he never could win.

 

     It usually brought him joy.

 

     Today, it swallowed him whole.

 

     How much longer until he never had her whispers wake him up in the middle of the night? When would the distraction of her moving lips interrupt his focus when he, too, was trying to read finally cease? How could someone else’s stubbornness both frustrate and fulfill him at the same time? And why had that anomaly become suddenly fleeting?

 

     She was in his arms, yet, somehow, they were empty.

 

     Arthur growled at his own thought, pushing them away. No way! He refused to lose her. As he told that lazy ass doctor, there was always a cure! Right now...Right now, he was just telling himself ghost stories. Nothing was definite until it was over.

 

     The doors open, the guards walking in behind Murk.  

 

     Arthur felt Mera stir in his arm, though her eyes remained closed.

 

     “We looked into the registration for the Farmer’s Market. We believe we have an address matching the couple you described.”

 

     “Then that means I’m already gone,” Arthur stood up. As soon as he did, he felt pressure on his forearm. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mera using him to sit up.

 

     “I’m going with you.”

 

     Arthur turned, gently trying to will her back down, “no, my Love, you are too sick.”

 

     She pushed past his hands, getting herself in a sitting position, “the tonic will help.”

 

     “Mera...”

 

     “Arthur,” she challenged with a pointed expression, “if there is a cure, I should be by your side.”

 

     Arthur lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers through her flowing volcanic hair.

 

     “I will not go down without a fight,” she stated firmly.

 

     He sighed, “Mera, I love you. I love having you by my side. There is no better partner. But you’re sick. This freaking illness has weakened you. You need to rest.”

 

     Instantly, Arthur knew he had said the wrong thing.

 

     Sick or not, Mera glared at him. Her eyes turned a glowing, blue. Her jaw tensed. Her arms folded, “you should know, My King. I am never weak!”

 

***

 

“This is the place?” Mera’s head tilted to the side, puzzled.

 

The vast land surrounding Arthur and Mera, in its’ ideal form, would have been the depiction of solitude and peace. In actuality, it was quintessential destruction of nature. The once vibrant green grass was so dried, the soil so decrepit, no life should be birthed from the ground. Yet, contradictory, tall cornfields spread around the property as though it did not know this was a strawberry farm, much less a dead one.

 

Conditions of the home were no better. Isolated from the rest of the world, the roof had holes in it, the wooded siding was peeling off. The very foundation looked shaky at best. If it weren’t for the alive, out-of-place cornfield, the land would be dismissed as abandoned.

 

“Where are the strawberries?” Mera gazed around.

 

“Why? You gotta hankering for more poison?” Arthur asked cheekily.

 

“The last time I checked corn grows in cornstalks.”

 

“Something tells me they’re not growing corn.”

 

“We can take a sample back to Atlantis and have it looked at.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to get it wet,” he said, “better to keep whatever is in there contained and intact until it can be examined in secure conditions. If we’re lucky, it’s just corn.”

 

They shared a doubtful look. The cornfield would have to be destroyed, but first they would have to know what they were dealing with, so destruction could be done safely.  

 

“It doesn’t answer where the strawberries came from,” Mera noted.

 

“I’d say why not just use corn if they got the field for it, but nothing can grow in this soil. Or nothing should. To think we were told growing up to eat our fruits and vegetables. Rub it in my father’s face the next time I see him.”

 

Mera stared at him not sure if she wished to be amused or exasperated. Somehow, she always managed to choose both.

 

“Well. Anyway,” he shifted under her gaze, “won’t get answers standing out here chatting about it,” he pointed towards the disintegrating home before them, “shall we?”

 

Arthur and Mera walked towards the house. Subtly, he would keep an eye on her. The medicine she had been given strengthened her body and eased her pain, but she was not one hundred percent. He tried to keep his peeks at her unnoticed, but she could sense his concerned eyes.

 

Finger barley gracing the knob, the door creaked open on its own.

 

“What sort of foe pisses off the King and Queen of Atlantis and doesn’t secure their doors?” Mera asked quietly.

 

“One who either wants to be found...or isn’t worried all that much about us.”

 

Taking cautious steps forward, the condition inside was no better than that of its’ exterior. It appeared as though no one had kept up with the house in over a century. The wooden floors were covered in dust. The walls and hanging pictures were caked in the same grime. The once vibrant blue carpets were now ragged, dull, and covered in gook.

 

“How can anyone live like this?” He asked aloud, standing in the doorway of the living room.

 

“Someone certainly is,” Mera called from the kitchen.

 

Curious, Arthur turned down the hallway and entered the kitchen. Mera stood by the back door, dirty steps of the inhabitants stained the floor.

 

“Fresh?” He asked.

 

_Clank!_

The noise came from upstairs. Quietly, the pair made their way towards the stairway. Gripping the railing, Arthur took the first step. His leg went straight through the rotted stair, his hand on the railing able to balance him from toppling forward. Ripping his leg out of the jagged hole, he took a step back.

 

Mera looked up towards the second story. She then shrugged, jumping on the railing, she leapt forward towards the second story.

 

“Mera! Don’t!” Arthur called out, but it was too late. She had landed gracefully on the second story. He sighed, “why did you do that? The floor up there could be rotted. You could have fallen through.”

 

“But I didn’t. Besides, someone is up here. The floors must be fine.”

 

“You could have just tried the second- “He bypassed the first step and put his foot down on the second one, only for his leg to crash through again,” ...never mind...”

 

Mera raised her brow, “see I was right. Again.”

 

Arthur followed Mera’s actions, leaping up from the railing and onto the second story. He landed beside her, eyes unamused, “you aren’t always right, you know.”

 

Mera lifted a brow, “name one time I wasn’t right?”

 

He paused for a second, lost. Her face growing more satisfied by the second. He snapped his fingers, “the US army. You had them chasing us.”

 

“I broke you out of false imprisonment.”

 

As the pair of them bickered, a long, black shadow swayed down the hallway behind them. Inching closer and closer to the distracted King and Queen.

 

“And caused a bunch of destruction instead of allowing the process, that would have done its job, to release me.”

 

She put her hands on her hips, “I cannot believe you still find falsity in my coming to your aid.” She stuck out her chin, “you know what. Next time. I will allow you to rot in jail. For as long as you are there. Two weeks. Forever. You can have your cell.”

 

“That’s not what I meant...You know it’s not that black and whi- “

 

Mera reached back over her shoulder, grabbing the handle of weapon inches away from gracing her beloved’s shoulder. Yanking it forward, she took their assailant with her. The dark figure was slammed on the ground, but rose up within seconds.

 

Upon closer inspection, the weapon was a sickle. As though recognizing its owner, the sickle flew from her hand, landing back into the grip of their enemy.

 

The creature stood tall, its appearance blacker than black. A face unable to be seen beneath the dark garb. Its hands poked out of the sleeves: pasty, grey skin with long fingers complete with sharp grey nails.

 

Arthur immediately charged the figure with his trident. The beast raised its sickle. The weapon _should_ have been no match for Arthur’s trident, but it was apparent this was no ordinary sickle found in a barn. The pair were trapped in a deadlock upon connection of their weapons. Both using their strength to attempt to push the other one backwards.

 

Mera’s eyes lit blue, ready to aid Arthur.

 

Dropping down on her from the ceiling, an unforeseen shadow landed on the Queen. Together they ripped a hole through the second stories’ weaker floor. Both fell straight through, only to then crash through the first floor, hitting the dirt ground of the basement.

 

     Distracted by his Queen’s attack, Arthur looked over his shoulder, “Mera!”

 

     The pale hand of the dark figure connected with Arthur’s face. Getting the upper hand, the creature used its’ sickle to knock Arthur’s trident out of his hand. It landed in the middle of the stairs.

 

     Trapping Arthur between the hallway wall and the sickle, the dark hooded figure came in closer. Closer. Closer. Until its’ face was only inches from Arthur’s. The King could only see sharp white teeth protruding out of blue lips.

 

 Eyes wide in shock, Arthur could not remain frozen for long. Getting his leg up, he kneed the beast backwards before elbowing the creature in its dark abyssal face.

 

The creature stumbled backwards only to, once again, make a fast recovery. It swung the sickle at Arthur, quickly and readily. Arthur jumped backwards again and again out of the way until finally he caught the handle of the weapon between his fingers. Ripping the sickle from the creature, he swung it hard and knocked the beast across the hallway. Instantly, the sickle recognized it was away from its master. It ripped out of Arthur’s hand and went back to the beast’s side.

 

The Assailant rose in one quick motion.

 

Arthur knew he needed to act quickly. Mera was down in the basement alone, possibly out cold from that fall. Time to be inventive.

 

Eying the stairs, he slid down the railing, catching his trident along the way. He hoped off the edge and saw the beast following in suit. Arthur lowed his weapon, keeping it out of sight. The beast came at him, sickle aimed for the King’s throat.

 

At the last second, Arthur ducked. He lifted his trident up and stuck it straight into the creature’s stomach. With his strength, he threw the trident against the wall. The beast now pinned beside the front door. Quickly, he gripped the trident and ripped it out of the creature. Remembering the unique features of the beast, he stuck it straight through, where he guessed, was the beast’s mouth.

 

Instantly, his enemy died.

 

The sickle slipped from its hand, a master to no one.

 

Grabbing up the sickle, while taking back his trident, he turned to the basement ready to meet Mera.

 

That is until he heard the sounds of an ungodly shriek coming from the cornfield.

 

 

***

Pushing herself up from the sooty ground, Mera’s leg wobbled unsteadily. Her head throbbed, compliments of a gash on her forehead from the impact of the fall. As if she were unware of these sensations, she gazed around. Business as usual. The creature who attacked her was here. Somewhere.

 

_WHOOSH._

The glint of the sickle presented itself out of the corner of her eye. Mera danced backwards. There was a lot of obstacles in her way. Shelves full of jars containing what appeared to be organs, the glass too dirty to make out for certain. Chains and hooks dangled from the ceiling, getting in her way as she kept a distance between her and her assailant.

 

Eyes lighting up, she reached out with her hand, pulling the water from the creature before her. She watched as her attacker staggered back, feeling the effects of her dehydration power. It put up a hand, as if trying to push itself away from her line of vision. Away from her power, but it seemed stuck where it stood. Becoming too weak.

 

Until _she_ became too tired.

 

Her body reacted unkindly, a nausea rising in her stomach. The taste of bile shot up in the back of her throat as the room began to spin. Vision now blurred, she lost sight of her target as her ears rang like a broken Story Box.

 

Tightening her jaw, she forced her eyes to keep detailed attention of the basement. Despite everything being out of focus, blobs of colors could tell her much. Now, which blob was dark and moving?

 

Something was coming closer. She felt a threatening energy. Her stomach flipped, warning her of danger. She jumped back as a bronze thin blob launched over her head. The sickle certainly. It missed her by an inch. Kicking her leg up, she heard the clank of the sickle hit the ground as she knocked it from her assailant’s hand. 

 

In the past, she had been trained to rely on physical fighting equally to her power. Right now, it was hard to fight physically when nothing appeared to take solid form. It wasn’t impossible, but it was harder. She needed both sides of her training to find a way to aid her now more than ever. Reaching out with her hand again, she tried dehydrating the creature once more.

 

The dark blob of the creature was closer to the floor, likely on its knees.

 

Her nose began to bleed.

 

A wave of illness making her cheeks hot, her hair heavy, the room dimming darker and darker...

 

Reaching down, Mera took hold of the bronze blob, grabbing the sickle up before it could return to its Master. Breaking it in half over her knee, Mera kept the sharp edge with her. She ran towards the wooden doors of the cellar basement, pushing dangling hooks out of her way in the process. She did not wish to think about what they had been used for. With the strength she had left, Mera used it to break the weak chain over the wooden doors. Throwing them open, Mera toppled out and onto the grass. Hightailing it towards the cornfield, she felt vomit rise in her stomach. She hardly stopped running in time to throw up. She did not let her dizzy head slow her. Mera disappeared into the cornfield just as the high pitch howl came from the cellar doors.

 

Deep into the cornfield, Mera fell to her knees. Her hands on dried, rough soil, she took in a deep breath. The world went completely black for a moment, the ringing in her ears worsening. Another moment, her eyes readjusted. She could see clearer now, but it wasn’t perfectly focused. Her heart was ripping inside her chest; her skull pounded out of her head.

 

The rustling of the cornfield branches sounded around her. Certainly the creature and not Arthur. Arthur would be calling her name. She wished, right now, she could call for his aid. She could not give herself away. She needed another moment. Just another moment to get her wits about her.

 

Silence.

 

Mera stopped breathing, eyes darting around. No time to feel sorry for her body. No time to wish for rest. This was battle. She was to fight in battle above all else. The creature knew she had run. It underestimated her now. Felt she was weak. Good. She could surprise it...

 

Silent still.

 

The hunted waited, trying to pick up on any indication the enemy was closing in. A shadow coming over her in any direction. Or, perhaps, feeling the wind only on one side of her face. Any indication...

 

She swallowed.

 

_Crunch._

From one direction.

 

_Crunch._

 

Then a different direction.

 

It moved too fast that it was on one side of her and then another side within a fraction of a second. If it could move so fast, why not do so in battle? Or was her mind too slow to register things?

 

Was she losing time?

 

Mera’s eyes snapped open, she was down on her back. The creature over her. Hands gripping her shoulder, teeth closing in on her shoulder.

 

Blue lips.

 

Sharp teeth jutting out of them.

 

Mera had seen this before.

 

She screamed. She lifted her hand remembering the head of the sickle. She plunged it into the creatures back again, and again, and again, all while screaming. Pushing it off of her, she kicked her attacker backwards, her voice never letting up.

 

Blue teeth!

 

Rage in her eyes, she brought the head of the scythe towards its mouth.

 

“Mera! Stop! We need it alive!”

 

Her hand stopped midway. Mera looked over her shoulder at Arthur. She saw the concern on his face. He came forward to catch her. Unaware she had become unconscious again.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Trying to stand, Mera felt a gentle hand on her shoulder willing her back down. Gazing around, the room came back into focus as her green eyes adjusted to her dusty environment. She was inside the broken down home of the people who had attacked her and Arthur. Looking up, Mera saw Arthur’s concerned face staring down at her, willing her to rest.

 

“Just take it easy,” he said in a hushed tone.

 

She cleared her throat, though her words still came out raspy, “what happened? We were outside...”

 

“You collapsed.”

 

She put a hand to her forehead, her head a pounding reminder that she was ill. Her legs feeling too bruised to walk. She needed her tonic.

 

“I think I was losing time out there...” she remembered how the beast managed to be all around her within moments. It stood to reason she had been going in and out of consciousness.

 

Arthur didn’t like this development. Yet, he wasn’t surprised. He also knew Mera. She would take it as a sign that, since she had bested the beast while sick, it was perfectly alright for her to continue on this path. An inevitable argument between them for a later time.

 

“Here. Let’s get some water in yah,” he said as he took gentle hands under her shoulders and helped her to sit up properly.

 

The wife from the Farmer’s Market suddenly charged the doorway trying to escape from a distracted Aquaman.

 

Arthur shoved his trident in front her only exit, cutting off the woman’s escape route. Furious eyes, his voice boomed at the assailant, “you! Sit down! Unless you want to end up like your friend there,” he pointed towards the dead body of the creature Arthur had killed earlier. She whimpered as though she were human, trying to soften the King in false appearances.

 

 He knew better now.

 

Features of the King remained unforgiving, so the woman hissed in return. She sat back on torn brown velvet couch in the far corner.

 

Mera’s cloudy mind began putting the pieces together, “the couple at the Farmer’s Market were the creatures...”

 

He nodded, “the creatures were posing as the couple who used to live here.”

 

“Where did the strawberries come from? Why not simply use their corn?” She paused, remembering the bad soil and reiterating their earlier speculation, “assuming it is corn.”

 

Arthur’s face hardened, “that was one of my first questions. She’s been less than forthcoming about what’s growing out there,” his lips curled in a taunting smirk, “Atlantis has ways of fixing that.”

 

Looking back toward Mera, his face softened. He lifted a clean glass of water from the table. For a moment, she could picture him in the kitchen cleaning a dirty glass for her when she awoke. The image made her feel warm despite the erupting chills of her sick body.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 

He smiled and put a hand behind her head, guiding the glass to her mouth so her chapped lips could drink. The water was gone in a second.

 

“I can get you more.”

 

“What about her?” She tilted her chin at their attacker.

 

“Oh. She goes in the direction the trident is pointed.”

 

“Is that how you were able to turn your back and clean a glass for me?”

 

A sly little grin fell over his face, “I actually made her clean it.”

 

Mera tightened her eyes for a moment. Okay. Not the sweet image she had created. Still thoughtful. And deadly. And a little...sexy, she daresay.

 

Pleasant thoughts did not last as the full force of chills took over her body. Her aching limbs hollered at her and she felt herself curling into a ball like a helpless kitten instead of a well-known dangerous warrior.

 

“Mera...” He put a soft hand on her shoulder.

 

She yelped, his mere touch too painful against her sensitive nerves.

 

Arthur was up, steam could have come from his nostrils. Staring deadly eyes at the woman in the chair, he pointed the trident her way.

 

 

“You are going to tell me how to stop this!”

 

The woman smirked, “you will _never_ get that information from me.”

 

Arthur charged forward, his trident to her neck, “I think I will.”

 

“You misunderstand what I am. My sole purpose is to protect. Even if it costs my life.”

 

Pounding footsteps stormed up the porch and into the house announcing the presence of his Atlantean cavalry. They came into the room. Arthur nodded for the guards to take her away.

 

“We’ll see about that,” Arthur warned as they led the assailant away.

 

***

Medicine in Mera, the adverse reaction to touch had subsided. Safe and sound at their home, Arthur cradled his love within his arms.  She nestled her face into his arm as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Carefully, he placed her down on their bed. Discomfort filled her body, her hands and legs jerking restlessly. Her hands gripped her arms with pinching fingertips. Arthur immediately took Mera’s slender hands into his, kissing her knuckles to soothe her.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

A sigh was the only response he could get from his Queen.

 

     “You need to relax,” he said softly.

 

     “I can’t,” Mera muttered. “Everything feels...” her voice trailed off.

    

     Arthur tilted his head to the side, “what?”

 

     “I don’t know. I want to move. Do something. But I’m too tired,” she huffed, agitated.

 

     He could feel the panic practically pouring from her. She was ill. She needed to take it easy. For the time, there was nothing either of them could do until the Atlanteans got the ‘woman’ in custody to speak. Still, rest would not come for her. Every nerve was awake and firing off.

 

     Mera tried to push herself up, “I can’t just lay here. I have to-“

 

     Sitting down on the bed, Arthur cradled her back into his arms, “none of that. You gotta take this opportunity to let your body do whatever kinda healing it can do.”

 

     Mera’s throat tightened, a wave of unexplained emotion for a courageous woman puzzled her mind. “I don’t know what I’m trying to do,” she croaked out.

 

     Tilting his head down, he kissed the top of her hair, “hey.”

 

     Mera jerked her legs.

 

     “Hey,” he said softly once more, keeping his head tilted, “look at me.”

 

     She wiggled in his arms.

 

     “Mera. Look at me,” he tried again.

 

     She focused her eyes up at him.

 

     “You’re okay,” he said gently, “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re safe with me.”

 

“I feel wrong.”

 

He smoothed her hair under his hand. He had never known Mera to be one to panic, but the illness she faced was, technically, terminal. The sickness was likely effecting her brain, causing chemicals fire off that didn’t normally go into overdrive. She wasn’t fully herself. He needed to keep his own logic in check. For her.

 

“You’re not wrong. You’re sick. Nobody feels right when they’re sick. We get all achy and cranky. I mean the achy part is new for you...”

 

She shot him a look.

 

He kissed her nose.

 

“That won’t work,” she glared.

 

“How about this? I run you a nice, hot bath,” he rubbed her arms with his hands, “it’s what Surface Dwellers do to unwind. It’ll make you feel better.”

 

“How?”

 

“You take showers. You don’t find them relaxing?”

 

“I never thought about it,” she supposed.

 

“Just trust me. A bath will help.”

 

Relenting, she nodded, nuzzling her face back into his chest.

 

Arthur rubbed her back gently for several moments, letting her breathe him in. When her body seemed to loosen up, he carefully laid her back against the pillow, “I’ll be right back.”

 

Mera closed her eyes. Only to open them again, watching him leave the room. She tried closing them once more, but her chaotic mind caused her eyes to snap open. She began tossing and turning on the bed all over again, her hands gripping the bedsheets. Kicking her legs out, she was about to push herself up again and pace around the room on weak limbs.

 

A hand cupped her shoulder calmingly.

 

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Arthur’s compassionate eyes. She didn’t have a chance to say anything. His strong arms scooped her up into his embrace before carrying her into the bathroom.

 

Mera smiled lightly as the sensation of warmth and steam filled the air.

 

Arthur noted the smile on her face, “see. It’s already helping.”

 

She snuggled up into him as her answer.

 

He let her stay that way for a moment as he sat on the edge of the tub.

 

 Not wanting her bath to get cold, he moved his hand to the back of her outfit. Finding the zipper, he freed her from its’ constraints. He took her arm, moving it out of the sleeve, before doing the same with the other one.

 

Mera whined from her aching muscles.

 

“It’s okay,” he said softly, though his own mind began to worry. Despite taking her medicine, she was still in an awful lot of pain. Of course, she had also pushed her body too much. Fought as a warrior despite her sickness’ limitations…

 

Pushing the suit down, he helped lift her up so he could get it passed her hips and peeled off her legs. Letting her attire fall to the floor, she sat naked in his lap.

 

“Admit it. You’ve been playing the long game to get me into bed with you,” she laughed, still nuzzled against him.

 

“Ha. Ha.” Arthur paused before answering dryly, “A beauty like me doesn’t need to try _that_ hard.’

 

“Ha. Ha,” Mera retorted back.

 

Standing up, he lowered her into the warm tub, letting the soothing water cascade around her aching body.

 

Mera looked up at him as he kneeled down by the tub.

 

Arthur took her red hair up into his hands, “you want me to put your hair up so it doesn’t get wet?”

 

She looked at him incredulously, “I was born in the water. The water is my home. It is strange when my hair is dry.”

 

He nodded as if to say, ‘true.’

 

“Besides, it aches.”

 

“Your hair aches?” He lifted a brow.

 

“Everything aches.”

 

Arthur let her flow back down around her shoulders, framing her face angelically. Even with tired eyes, and paler than pale skin, her beauty stunned him.

 

Mera’s back was slightly arched, her legs out in front of her stiffly. Her stance was that of someone alert, ready to battle in case she was called. It was strange, she could sleep soundly with Arthur and feel at peace. They could have their quiet moments of normalcy between the duties of the crown. Yet, when relaxation was expected of her, she resisted. He was watching her, waiting for her to feel better. Waiting for her body to give into its exhaustion and her mind to turn off. Now, everything was on a higher volume. It was all she could do to keep from splashing about in the water as a fish does when trapped on dry land.

 

“Have you ever heard the word vacation?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yes...why?” Mera asked.

 

“You would be terrible on one.”

 

This time she did splash. But she splashed _him._

Arthur blinked, “you forget I’m also part of the water. That’s not going to bother me.”

 

“I was hoping the Surface side of you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

 

He put his hand on her shoulder, trying to ease her muscles, “lay back.”

 

“Against what?”

 

“The back of the tub,” he patted the slight dip of the structure. “Hell. You can submerge yourself completely under water if that’s what it takes to get you to ease up,” he put his hand in the water before trickling warm liquid over her back, “you’re so tense. Loosen up your muscles. The bath isn’t going to bite.”

 

She sighed.

 

He frowned, “what are you afraid of?”

 

“I don’t know...” She bit her bottom lip, staring at her toes peeking up from the water. She curled them anxiously.

 

“Mera. It’s just me. You don’t have to have walls. You know that.”

 

She looked at him, “I feel wrong. All of it feels wrong. Everything feels...bad.”

 

“Bad?” He shook his head, “relaxing feels bad?”

 

“I don’t understand why.”

 

“It’s no different than any other time we have downtime. If we’re sitting on the beach. Or out to lunch. Why is this making you feel bad?”

 

She chewed her lip now, “I do not mind needing your help. It’s not a fear of weakness. I am not weak. I don’t know what it is. I simply feel off.”

 

“What you’re sick with isn’t natural, Mera. It’s ancient. It’s playing with you in ways we don’t understand. Your feelings. Your emotions. Your-”

 

“They had blue mouths, Arthur!” She spontaneously interjected. Her sporadic inability to control each twinge and twitch caused water to spill over the edge of the tub.

 

He put his hands on her shoulders to ease her back under the water, “there’s a lot we have to get answers to. Like. Why you were able to tap into that fact. They did this to you. Clearly. We have one in custody. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We are going to get the answers we need.”

 

“And I have to lay in water to relax until we do,” she grumbled.

 

“For what good it’s doing...”

 

She lifted her hands up, rubbing her tired eyes. Every ounce of her hurt. She didn’t want to be in here. Or in her bed. She didn’t want to be doing nothing, but she was too tired to do anything.

 

He frowned again as the wheels in her mind turned. Yet, she calmed when she nuzzled him. She calmed when he was carrying her too. A second later, he was kicking off his own clothes. Gently, he began lifting her up.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

 

“Trying something.”

 

Arthur slid into the tub with her, sitting himself down before pulling her up into his lap.

 

Mera felt his strong arms wrap around her small frame. He held her tightly to him, her body suddenly cozied by his warmth and kind presence. The confusion faded into security. She felt her body go limp in his arms. Her legs loosened up; her back was no longer arched; her cheek was against his chest.

 

“That better?” He asked.

 

The tightness in her chest eased up. There was mild fluttering. Here and there her body jerked against him, but these sporadic actions were much less.

 

“What did you do?” She asked, her eyes closed.

 

Arthur smiled down at her, “the same thing that I would need done for me.”

 

He held her until the water turned cold only to carry his sleeping beloved to bed. There he would dress her in a light nightgown, as to not upset her sensitive nerves. Once dressed, he’d lay with her and cradle his finally soothed Queen.

 

***

Eyes fluttering open, Mera took in the same scent which rocked her to sleep. Arthur. Back to his chest, she felt his arm holding her close. She turned herself over so she could face him. A soft smile on her face met his concerned eyes. Lost in thought, as he often was when no one was keeping him company.

 

“You’re worried,” Mera voiced.

 

“I’m not,” he said lightly, forcing his face to relax.

 

“You are.”

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

“You always say that.”

 

He smirked, “When haven’t I been?”

 

Reaching up, she placed a hand on his cheek, “I am sick, Arthur. But you don’t have to shoulder it alone. You take on the burden of helping me. I am to help you too. That is how this works between us.”

 

Taking her hand from his cheek, he kissed her palm this time before laying her arm down to rest, “the only thing you need to worry about is getting better.”

 

Mera’s face scrunched up sternly, “You are not to be forgotten. Talk to me.”

 

He heaved his chest, “we need more information. Getting her to talk is taking longer than I thought.” Letting go of Mera, he started to push himself up, “it’s time I do this interrogation.”

 

Before he could fully get off the bed, Mera gently stretched out her arm. Too tired to be able to reach him, she could not grip his hand.

 

Arthur noted her trying to grasp for him. As much as he wanted to rush out the door, get the answers he sought, and make her better...he couldn’t ignore her. The worried look on her face. The need for him. And the need for him to calm down. To be here. With her. It reminded him that right now he needed to be the logical one between the pair. She was shouldering it when she had enough to battle within her.

 

Kneeling on the bed, he took her hand. Her fingers closed around his, tightly, reassuringly.

 

He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. Not ever. I don’t want to live without you the way my father had to live without my mother.”

 

“Come here,” she ordered softly.

 

Giving in, he laid back down with her. Face to face.

 

Mera returned her hand to his cheek, “the answers may not be coming as quickly as you like, but they are on their way. There is hope now. Not to mention. I am stubborn. In case that fact has escaped you.”

 

Now would be the time for the usual banter. A quip from him about how he couldn’t imagine her ever being headstrong. All he could do was crack a smile. His heart ached too much for anything else.

 

“There is hope,” Mera reaffirmed. “We have a place to start. We did not have that yesterday. Hold onto that.” She paused, “and while we wait...keep holding me.”

 

Arthur pulled her close to him, her face buried in his neck. He ran his hand through her red locks soothingly as they breathed each other in.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

     Arthur was sleeping. His brow was furrowed as though he were still thinking. Mera traced her fingers across his soft cheek with slight amusement. He always looked quite pensive when he slumbered, though he was not one to talk in his sleep. It gave her no indication of the visuals running through his head. At times, when he’d awaken, she’d mention how he looked like he had was having quite the dream. He always shrugged it off and claimed to not remember much.

 

     Resting her cheek on his chest, it wasn’t beyond her that he was a feast for the eyes. Even with his jaw tight, ready to fight, he looked...sweet. In her heart, he had a sweet face. Some knew him to be rather intense. His work was difficult. They didn’t get to see him as she did. The lighter side, which at times she had to pull out. It was there, never too far from the surface, at least not for her. He was her warmth. He was beautiful. She felt quite pleased in this moment despite the aches and pains shooting through her. It was nice, being here, slumbering together.

 

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK._

Hold that thought.

 

     Carefully, she pulled herself up. Sleep had done her body good. She was able to stand on her legs again, though the sharp, gnawing pains reminded her that she would need her medicine soon. As quickly as she could muster, she made her way downstairs, holding the railing as she went. She didn’t want to wake Arthur; he was finally getting the rest he needed. She also didn’t want to go tumbling down the stairs. That would not only wake him up, but serve to annoy her.

 

     Grabbing the doorknob, she opened her home up to her visitor. Vulko stood on the other side. He looked surprised for a moment, likely due to seeing Mera up and about. His demeanor shifted to a professional one, placing a hand over his chest, and bowing.

 

     “Come in,” Mera said, stepping out of the way. She shut the door behind Vulko once her friend entered.

 

     “How are you feeling, My Queen?” Vulko asked.

 

     Mera crossed the hallway and stood in front of Vulko, “I’m okay. Better than I was earlier.”

 

     “Is the tonic working?”

 

     Mera nodded, “at times. I don’t think it’s made for people like me.”

 

     “Ah, yes. You refer to people who don’t rest and continue to force their body through excruciating circumstances.”

 

     Mera faked a grimace, “I was just going to say warriors, but yes. I suppose.”

 

     Pressure filled the back of Mera’s shoulders. She instantly smiled at the touch of Arthur’s hand massaging her, “you’re up.”

 

     “I am.”

 

     “I was trying to prevent that.”

 

     “Guess I don’t sleep too well without you kicking me anymore...and that was before you got sick.”

 

     Mera pouted, “I get hot. And bored.”

 

     He looked at her incredulously. She got bored. Sleeping. Naturally, someone as tightly wound as her would. No time for them to argue about nothing at all. He shifted his focus back onto Vulko. Putting his arm around Mera, Arthur gestured for everyone to head into the other room. He sat on the couch where Mera instantly propped herself up against him, her back against his chest, and her head under his chin.

 

     Vulko didn’t take a seat, but rather stood before the pair with his arms behind his back. He looked between their expectant faces, forcing himself to break the news, “she does not disclose much. At first, she merely stated her role of as protector. Such a role prevented her from speaking with us. When we pushed to know what she was protecting, she could not be convinced to provide more detail. She did, at one point, become angry. A slip of the tongue occurred.”

 

     “What’d she say?” Arthur asked.

 

     “She called her kind Guardians. She refused to say more. Given the name, Guardian, it stands to reason she’s not easily swayed to speak. It’s likely against her nature.”

 

     Arthur’s body tensed, “I can make her speak.”

 

     A calming hand rested upon his own. He looked to Mera, seeing her soothing features as she rubbed her thumb against his palm, quelling his temper.

 

     “We may not need her,” Vulko declared.

 

     “What do you mean?” Mera looked perplexed.

 

     “Between the description you gave of their true form, and the woman calling herself a Guardian, a few members of the council were able to recall an old tale.”

 

     “What tale?” Arthur asked.

 

     “A tale surrounding an underground city.”

 

     “I have never heard of such a tale.” Mera said.

 

     Arthur’s arm tightened around her just a little.

 

     “Most haven’t,” Vulko explained. “It is not written. It predates Atlantis. It predates written language itself. It was a tale told orally.”

 

     “And the Council knows it?” Arthur tilted his head.

 

     “Certain members.”

 

     “And not one of ‘em thought to, I don’t know, say grab some freaking paper and jot it down?” Arthur lifted his brows.

 

     “It was simply a fable,” Vulko shrugged, “a tale one tells to warn against the madness power brings.”

 

     “Yeah. Guess someone forgot to share it with Orm,” Arthur quipped.

 

     Mera bit her bottom lip.

 

     Vulko pressed on, “what the Council told me was that between Mera’s sickness, and the dark figures, it reminded them of the tale of a deity who ruthlessly ruled a city. He was bent on enslaving all life and even raising hell itself.”

 

     “Who defeated him?” Mera inquired.

 

     “The exact origins are lost. There are theories, but nothing substantial.”

 

     “What does any of this have to do with Mera being sick?” Arthur snapped.

 

     “Arthur...” Mera squeezed his hand again, hushing him.

 

     “I don’t have time for tales. I need something that is substantial to follow,” Arthur stood up.

 

     Mera kept her hand on his, trying to keep him calm.

 

     He didn’t pace around broodingly as planned, feeling his love’s needful hand. He sighed. Again, remembering he was trying to be the logical one since she was ill. He continued to have outbursts instead. He sat down, putting his arms around her, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose-“

 

     She put her hand on his cheek, “I know. Let him finish,” she directed his attention back to Vulko with the tilt of her chin.

 

     Vulko only began speaking again when he saw Mera nod in his direction, “it was said this ruler would take down colonies through illness, effecting both body and mind. The Guardians, as in the name, guarded the ruler. They would spread the sickness to protect against enemies or help this deity conquer new regions. Why they’re suddenly back is a mystery. Why Mera is their target is the other mystery. What it has to do with the underground city is all unknown. Discovering these answers may be the way to finding a cure.”

 

     “Is this ruler back?”

 

     “Though the details are lost, the fable suggested his death,” Vulko said.

 

     “His guardians aren’t here to guard nothing. What do they got left to guard if this guy bit the dust?” Arthur asked.

 

     “And why would I have known about part their true form’s appearance without having seen it? Mera asked.

 

     “For the time, we do not have the answers to these questions we have been asking ourselves.”

 

     “Do you got anything on the cornfield?” Arthur asked.

 

     “What was discovered upon the land was skeletal remains of the married couple whose form they took. The original couple did grow corn, not strawberries, as you noted.” Vulko paused before adding, ”in fact, it was not only the original owner’s remains we found. We uncovered dozens of skeletal remains on the land.”

 

     Mera crinkled her nose, remembering the jars she swore looked to hold organs. The hooks from the ceiling one might hang meat upon, “the guardians survive on people.”

 

     “Likely. Not much is known about the Guardians.”

 

     “Not much is known about a lot,” Arthur said impatiently, “what was in the cornfield?”

 

     “Corn.”

 

     “Corn?” Arthur said. He rolled his eyes, “Nothing in the Council’s memory about that tale, you know, the no one thought to jot down, that might explain the ability to grow shit in worthless soil?”

 

     Vulko kept his face calm and even as Arthur grew more agitated, “my theory is they did not take care of the land. The soil died. They simply enchanted the field to keep up appearances with the town. People knew the original couple. And they knew they grew corn and sold it to local markets.”

 

     “Why not just use corn at the Farmker’s Market? Why strawberries?”

 

     “I like strawberries,” Mera said lightly.

 

     Arthur looked down at her, her eyes glazed over. Yeah. It was getting to be time for her tonic, “sh-h-h-h.”

 

     Mera looked up at him, “can we get some?”

 

     With a patience he only had for her right then, Arthur rubbed her arms gently before placing one hand to her head. He carefully pressed it against his chest, “I’ll get you something sweet in a minute, Babe.”

 

     Vulko took a moment to recover, lost in both amazement, and sadness, at how quickly Mera’s mind could be taken over by this disease. A second ago she was very much present, very much Mera. A second later, it was as though she were lost in this world. Arthur as her only guide.

 

Vulko pushed on, “it is a well thought out plan. Judging from the amount of bodies on the land, one they planned for a long time. They probably studied Mera. Studied what she likes: things that are good for the environment. Things that are healthy. A Farmer’s Market was a perfect place to entice her. Poison her. And they probably also watched what she bought.”

 

     “Other people bought strawberries at the Farmer’s Market. I haven’t heard about an outbreak of illness in Amnesty Bay.”

 

     “I suppose they set aside poisoned ones for her.”

 

     Arthur paused thinking about this, remembering how the couple eagerly had shoved a carton into his hands.

 

     “Did she always like strawberries?” Vulko asked.

 

     Arthur looked down at Mera, expecting another strawberry enthused outburst, but it seemed she had dozed off against him. Gods, he didn’t know what the hell this disease did to her. Changed her.

 

     “Yeah. She likes ‘em fine. Not in the Cult of Strawberries lifestyle she’s got going on now. But yeah, she bought ‘em weekly, I’d say. Along with other things,” he shrugged, “but the couple didn’t grow ‘em. So what, they just bought a bulk, sprinkled some poison on it, and away they went hoping she’d buy some.”

 

     Vulko nodded, “if that plan didn’t work, they were no worse for it. Who knows how many other times they tried and failed? It appears they were living in that home for a long time.”

 

     “Not to be a broken record. But, seriously, on the land, we got oral tales too. Someone eventually wrote ‘em down. At least the ones that aren’t completely lost. If the council guys can recall this tale, why did no one before them write it?”

 

     “The Council recalls very little. Mentions of it. Murmurs. Most of it is lost and, my guess, these Guardians wished for it to be that way.”

 

     “Because they knew one day he’d be back and they didn’t want anyone getting in the way.”

 

     “There is one way to achieve memories of a lost world,” reaching into his pocket, Vulko took out a dusty, rolled up piece of parchment. Leaning forward, he handed it to Arthur, “it’s not a location to the city. It’s a location to the Keeper of Knowledge.”

 

     Arthur took the scroll, looking at it skeptically, “knowledge? Just like that. They hold all knowledge. And we don’t put ‘em on our retainer because...”

 

     “Because what he asks for in return is a hefty price. You should really consider this, Arthur. His knowledge was bestowed by dark forces. He is not here to help you. He is there to help himself.”

 

 

***

 

     Waves crashed up to the beach in a gentle hum. Arthur remembered buying his first home with Mera. She had wished to see more of where he had come from once they had fallen in love. For that, she had fallen in love with Amnesty Bay because, it was not only a peaceful escape from duty, it was also part of him. She could only love that which made him who he was. Now, the town was a graveyard. Every street she had walked upon. The first movie she had ever seen in the theaters and how he had to clutch her hand when the loudness startled her. Reminding her to calm her wild ass because it wasn’t real. Or when they had crossed the used book store. It had taken him a block to realize she was no longer by his side. Back tracking, he had seen her through the window going through every book as though she were a child wishing for each fun toy she spotted. Now, their home was a casket...only a few minutes from his parents. She had loved that idea. Their children could grow up close to family. A strong bond to land and sea. She had wished for the baby’s room to look out at the water, their yard the bridge between both worlds. Upon land, they could always look at their origins while appreciating their current legacy.

 

Would there be no legacy? No mother? Or child? Instead, a cold, lifeless house vacant of fun, laughter, and traditions they once would blend.

 

     The sound of soft steps filled his ears. A shadow peeking out through the setting sun.

 

     “You should be resting,” he said.

 

     “I don’t like to be told what to do,” Mera said lightly. She took a seat near him, “are you okay?”

 

     “Should be asking you that question,” his voice was gruff.

 

     “Did we not already have this conversation? We are shouldering these matters together. I know my death devastates you. I...I cannot imagine I would fare better were our roles reversed, but Arthur you will be okay.”

 

     Arthur’s head snapped towards her’s, his voice equal to the motion, “what do you mean your death?” The offense on his face contradicted his thoughts just before, but those were imagination. Not reality. Not unless you called it into fruition.

 

     “Arthur, we both know we cannot seek this...this Knowledge out. Not for my life. Not when they will ask something great of us. The greater good is more important.”

 

     “And what? You’re suddenly not important? We don’t even know what the hell is gonna be asked.”

 

     “Any high price, at any one else’s expense is too high,” she countered patiently.

 

     Grabbing her by the shoulders, he squeezed them slightly as he looked directly into her eyes, “you hear me. Nothing. And I mean nothing. Is too high a price for my girl.”

 

     Sick, sunken eyes met Arthur’s mournful ones, “you are not only a king, but a hero. We both know what you say cannot be true. Not when the time comes for the deal to be made. You will make the right choice and it will be okay.”

 

     Arthur wanted to shake her little shoulders within his strong hands, but frustration only reached his voice, “I won’t lose you. You spoke about hope. You don’t get to take that away.”

 

     Mera swallowed a lump in her throat, “I didn’t. Reality did.” The lump swiftly returned. The exhaustion of her body could not beat down the waring emotions. She did not have the resilience in her to keep her face trained and even. Tears swiftly fell, her own exasperation poured forth, “do you think I want this? That this is easy for me to leave you! I want our life together! This home! I want our children! I want foolish mundane things like going to an actual, normal Farmer’s Market that doesn’t kill you!” Voice raw, she felt her head dizzying from the rush of emotion her beaten body couldn’t take. Her hand gripped the top step for support. “I don’t want to leave you,” she managed to croak out.

 

     Scooping her up in his arms, Arthur held her to his chest as her legs draped over his lap, “then don’t.”

 

     She pressed her cheek to him, “I don’t think I have a choice.”

 

     “You have a choice in trying. Please, Mera. Let’s see this guy. Even if you think it’s pointless. I know you’re tired. But...we gotta try. Maybe I don’t got a right to ask,” he paused, heatedly changing his mind, “hell! No! I do have a right to ask! I love you. Please. For me. Just try this one thing.”

 

      Mera started to shake her head no, looking away, but Arthur held her gaze, “just. Try it. This may be our only chance to get answers. Take you out of the equation for a second, this dude is a threat. One way or another, for the safety of land and sea, we gotta find out what’s going on. So, we go to this knowledge holder. We can hear the price. If it’s too high, we say no.” He put his fingers to her cheek, locking his eyes with her’s again as they tried to escape him, “we say no. But we hear what he has to offer first. You don’t even have to come. Just let me try. Let me go and see this guy. You can rest. Just let me go and try.”

 

     Mera eased up, too tired to think or fight him on this, “I have to go with you. Someone has to save your foolish self from the trouble you will get yourself in.”

 

     He wanted to smile, but more than that he needed to hear her reassurance, “you’ll try?”

 

     She nodded, hating to give him false hope. Hating it with every fiber of her being, but he wasn’t where she was at yet. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Mera, well, she knew she would never be ready for their goodbye. She also knew it was out of her hands. For him, she pressed on until he could face what she already was accepting, “I will try. You are right. There is no harm in at least hearing the deal...”

 

     Hugging her tight, he kissed the top of her head. He could not bear releasing her until it was too dark to remain outside.

 


	9. Chapter 9

          The yellowing map clutched in Arthur’s hands led them to the entrance of uninhibited catacombs. He sighed to himself and couldn’t help but wonder, there are catacombs people actually are allowed to visit. Why couldn’t this knowledge holder be some security guard at one of those? You know, a guard who looks non-threatening. He spends his days telling kids ‘don’t touch that.’ He’s a dude, or lady, who looks like they’d rather be doing anything but work there. Hell, you can’t even have coffee on that job. Might spill it. You’re stuck all day lagging. What kind of life is that? But suddenly, Atlantean royalty show up. This guard comes into their own. A whole transformation scene happens, where they spin, and suddenly they’re decked out in the finest of robes. The knowledge holder and the royals have a conversation in the gift shop. The royals get what they came for, maybe even a novelty mug too, and then they get the hell out of dodge.  

 

            But no. Instead, he and Mera were in dusty, dangerous catacombs that aren’t fit for the public. Of course.

 

            “You’re quiet,” Mera says as they reach the entryway.

 

            “Oh. Yeah. Just thinking. Thinking about making you better,” he offers a smile.

 

            “Uh-huh,” she walked inside the catacombs letting him continue to converse with himself.

 

            Dark, dusty, and dreary. Walking forward, the scenery continued to be more of the same. Long, narrow hallways of dirt walls with dirt floors. It lacked in sight-seeing and Arthur could understand why no one was bothering with turning it into a tourist attraction. Already, he wanted his money back, and he hadn’t paid.

 

“Hello!” Arthur called out.

 

            “Don’t you think the keeper of all knowledge _knows_ we’re here,” Mera quipped.

 

            “If he does, he sucks at hosting.”

 

            Reaching a divide in the hallway, the question became straight or left. Mera took the initiative by moving left, up several steps of a miniature stairway. The blink of a light caught their eyes as they reached the final step. Moving ahead, Arthur gripped the lit torch off the wall.

 

            “There’s life in this place after all,” he noted.

 

            Parts of the hallway were lit before them. What they saw revealed nothing interesting. Cobwebs and dirt. It was when the pair would peek their head into the hollowed out rooms throughout the narrow walkway that the purpose of these catacombs came to light. An ancient mausoleum, filled with rows of marked graves along the walls. A chill ran over both Arthur and Mera. Their presence disturbing those long forgotten.

 

            “Why would this Keeper of Knowledge wish to be here?” Mera asked.

 

            Backing out of the room, Arthur shrugged, “cause it’s abandoned and forgotten?”

 

            “Disrespectful,” Mera said.

 

            “Don’t say that out loud. We need him to help us.”

 

            “He’s knowledge. He knows I’m thinking it.”

 

            “I don’t know that he’s a mind reader.”

 

            She rolled her eyes, “well, I’m gonna ask him the meaning of this.”

 

            “Shit, Mera. Don’t.”

 

            “What?” She put her hands on her hips.

 

            He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, “with your life on the line. I don’t know. Can you be a little...less you.”

 

            “Oh, I’ll be less me alright. When your sleeping alone tonight, I will be a lot less me,” Mera walked further down the hallway without him.

 

            He grumbled to himself, “you know I don’t sleep well anymore without you.” He quickly followed after all, “all I’m saying is, we might not want to piss off the guy who could save your life. You know, ask him after. Write him a letter. I don’t know.”

 

            “I don’t think they deliver mail here.”

 

            “You know what I’m saying, I just mean--Shit!” Grabbing at the wall, kicked up rubble caught itself beneath his shoe, causing Arthur to almost fall over. His hand on something hard, he moved the torch to see what he had grabbed onto for support.

 

            “Argh!” He jumped backwards.

 

            “What?” Mera walked back beside him.

 

            Swishing the torch in front of the wall again, the wall was lined with the hollowed out eyes of skeletal remains. There were dozens of them staring back at them, their mouths looking to scream.

 

            Mera tensed up, “perhaps, we should go.”

 

            A booming sound of a silky voice echoed all around them, “but you only just got here. And I do look forward to knowing you better!”

 

            “Shouldn’t you already know about us?” Arthur commented.

 

            “Your fiancé already made that joke. Try for something a little fresher,” the voice boomed back.

 

            Arthur and Mera expression of animals caught in a trap mirrored one another’s. There were two options: turn and run. Or see how this plays out. In the pit of their stomachs, they both knew the voice had confirmed the first option was not set to pass. Cautiously, they moved further down the hallway. The hallway opened up and in the center of the room was a cylinder structure of more human skeletal heads staring back at them. A showpiece. A prize.

 

            “I’m starting to think these faces aren’t as ancient as we thought,” Arthur commented quietly.

 

            Mera gave a slight nod in agreement.

 

            Circling around the cylinder, they walk forward to a daunting candle lit room. The tall shadow of a slender figure swayed before them, cascaded by the fiery light. The unsettling nature of the room echoed back to Vulko’s words. The deal they made in exchange for Mera’s health would be one of great cost. One they likely could not make. The heavy, taunting ambiance was enough to make Arthur aware a deal, now more than ever, was unlikely. The skeletal remains ensured this conclusion.

 

            The figure came into view as the pair hovered in the entrance. He was dressed simply. His clothing was white and seemed to remain bright despite the dirty atmosphere. His hair was a greying brown and his eyes were a warm brown.

 

            “The tonic must be working,” Knowledge said, giving Mera the once over, “she looks well. For now.”

 

            “She’s doing better than your friends back there,” Arthur gestured with his hand to the skeletal cylinder behind them.

 

            Knowledge smirked, “Those sorry souls unfortunately crossed me in a time where business was crafted under more barbaric terms.”

 

            “Yeah? And how do you do business now?” Arthur asked.

 

            Knowledge smiled slyly, “Who is to say I do business differently now?”

 

            Arthur clutched his trident tightly.

 

            Knowledge caught the hostile action and wave it off with a dismissive hand as though Arthur were merely being foolish, “Oh, stop. Please. You need to relax. I’m not interested in adding you to my collection. It is not what I wish from you.”

 

            “Clearly you know why we were are here,” Mera observed, “so, the question becomes, what do you wish for in return?”

 

            “It is not quite time for that.”

 

            “In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t got a lot of time,” Arthur fumed.

           

            “If you wish to save your Queen, and I believe you do, you are going to find a way to make the time,” Knowledge simply responded.

 

            Walking around the other side of a sarcophagus, he lifted the cover and reached inside. Closing the lid, he lifted his hand and revealed a scepter with a long iron handle. A crystal ball was held at the top by four prongs. A purple hue with orange lightening ripped through the peaceful color filling the crystal. Pointing it at the dirt wall, a luminescent light blared, causing Arthur and Mera to cover their eyes at once. Clouds of dust filled the room, as the wall lifted. An entryway revealed itself. As the light dimmed, Arthur and Mera stared in wonder. No matter how much they saw, there was always more to discover.  

 

            Knowledge walked forward, looking at the pair, “shall we?”

 

            He led them inside to their fate.

 

***

           

            The simplicity of the room was not what either were expecting. It was small, consisting of a simple bed pushed up at the wall. There was a small nightstand beside it. If it weren’t for Arthur’s torch, the room would be pitched black.

 

           “Before a deal can be struck, worthiness must be proven,” Knowledge explained.

 

          “Worthiness?” Arthur cocked a brow.

 

          “Yes. There are traditions in place which must be followed in order for what you seek to be granted. I simply cannot hand out information to any who stumble inside. I have more honor than that.”

 

          Honor. Right. Arthur had already bickered with Mera about her need to curb her tongue while they were seeking to make her well. Yet, he found his own cynicism itching to come out. He lacked in discipline much more than she most days. Arthur was finding he was literally having to bite his tongue to keep his remarks in check.

 

         It proved to be pointless effort when Knowledge looked directly at the King, “you believe I do not hold honor simply because I can look at a dying women and wish for something in return.”

 

         Arthur shifted uncomfortably, “private thoughts are supposed to be, you know, private.”

 

        “I said I am more honorable than simply applying to people’s whims. However, I never claimed to be benevolent. As my wall of heads will attest. I am providing a service and I expect to get payment. A doctor does no different.”

 

       “Fine. You’re reasonable,” Arthur scowled, “can we cut to the chase?”

 

       “Arthur...” Mera shot him a look.

 

        Knowledge held up a calming hand, “it is fine. He is concerned for you. And time is not on your side. Perfectly reasonable. I will cut to the chase,” he said, “the trial is a test for the soul who enters. Ones who surpass it are looked kindly upon by the Gods. I am then given the power to strike a deal. If one does not pass it, my vision will become cloudy. Until the time those who fail leave, I can see no more than either of you are able.”

 

            “Fine,” Arthur stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves, “let’s get this over with.”

 

            “No,” Knowledge said

 

            “No?” Arthur’s eyes widened.

 

            “No. it has to be Mera,” he put his hand out towards the Queen.

 

            “Like hell!” Arthur’s voice boomed.

 

            “She is the one who is need and requesting answers for her wellness. She is the one who does the trial,” Knowledge explained.

 

            “I’ll have her go wait outside the catacombs if that’ll please your damn Gods. I’ll make the request for her,” Arthur challenged.

 

            Mera took a step forward, “Arthur, it’s okay.”

 

            “Like hell it is. This is some grade A bullshit, right here. And this asswipe knows it.” Arthur growled, “besides, it’s not just for Mera. It is for all of Atlantis we get answers. Everyone is threatened.”

 

            Mera closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose for a second, “and you thought the answers I demanded before were crass.”

 

            “Doesn’t matter now. He buds in and reads our damn thoughts anyway. Might as well say them out loud.”

 

            “I think at least presenting some restrain is a sign of respect that can bring one further to the result they hope for,” Mera sighed.

 

            “I did not put the rules in place,” Knowledge explained now that he finally could get a word in, “I simply enforce them. All of Atlantis is not here. All of the land is not here. Mera is here and her life is on the line. Mera does the trial.” He smirked.

 

            “She’s sick. Why further her illness when she’s going to need her strength in this Underground City?” Arthur growled.

 

            “They do not call it a trial because it is meant to be easy,” Knowledge smiled.

 

            “Maybe we’ll just have to find the Underground City another way. I mean. Damn. We don’t even know that we’re gonna agree to your terms in the end anyway,” Arthur said, moving towards the doorway.

 

            “Entitlement!” Knowledge shouted, causing Arthur to look over his shoulder, “you seek my knowledge and then make demands. You mock the sanctity of this sacred place because it is not fair! These are the old ways! And you, Sir, are the one in need. Yet, you wish to choose! Arrogance is a modern world’s way.”

              

            Arthur turned and faced Knowledge with dangerous eyes, “that’s where you’re wrong. There were many rule **r** s from the old days who fell because of their arrogance. Caesar. Caligula. Croesus. But this isn’t arrogance. This is practicality.”

            “I will do it,” Mera stepped forward.

            “Mera, we can’t.”

**“** It is my choice. It is my trial. And I accept.”

            Arthur stared at her concerned, taking her gently by the arms, “please. I saw what happened to you back at that farm. You barely made it home. You can’t put your body through that again.”

            “This is the only way to get the next step,” she reasoned. “You said it yourself. Time is not on our side.”

            “We may not even make this deal, Mera,” Arthur reminded her, “and then you’ll have put your body through hell for nothing.”

            “Arthur, we know no other options. By the time we find another, it may be too late for me. We are here now. We might as well see what the offer is because...because it is likely the only option we have time to try.”

            Taking a step out of his grasp, she backed away. Quickly, Arthur took hold **of** her hand. She stared back at him as he looked directly at her. Holding onto her, for one last moment, as long as that second could last.

            Knowledge nodded, “let us begin,” he gestured towards the bed.

 

            Pointing the scepter over her, Knowledge held it steadily. A light, peaceful blue radiated from the crystal. She could feel its warmth. Then, she felt drowsy. Mera only saw blue until the warmth swallowed her whole.

 

            Arthur watched as his love fell unconscious. Immediately, he took a step towards her bed side. Kneeling beside her, Arthur made a promise to himself: Knowledge would get a taste of his trident if she did not wake up

 

            “Have some faith in your Queen, Arthur,” Knowledge said in response. “And make yourself comfortable. This is going to be awhile.”

 

             


	10. Chapter 10

 

     Waking up, tightly jammed 300 feet below ground, was not an ideal place to start. The circular enclosure left very little wiggle room for Mera. Moving her body in a complete 360-degree fashion, Mera saw no indication of how to escape her prison. Feeling the jagged bricks that made up the wall, the width was not wide enough for her to climb. She knew where she was. Trapped within a waterless well. No dogs were coming to save her, though she didn’t fully grasp why they would. It seemed to be something people on land shouted in expectation.  Just become one dog, a long time ago, was filmed doing so on the Story Box didn’t mean all dogs were capable. And why were they falling in wells so often that they made such demands? You would think they might learn...She would never fully understand Surface Dwellers, but right now they weren’t her concern. It was a trial, was it not? The obvious was likely not the answer to getting out of her plight. She had to think outside of the box. Or, rather, circle, in this case.

 

     “Hello?” She shouted up, hearing her voice echo back down to her.

 

     Silence was her response thereafter. Yelling hello was hardly thinking creatively. It was worth a try...

 

Okay. Creativity. She could be creative. She was well trained in both physical combat and her hydrokensis power. She was in a well, after all. Where there was a well, there should be water. It only looked dried up. Waving her hand in front of her, she reached out to any remaining water lingering beneath the surface. There could water all around her, after all. Water from nature above her. Water from the air. She didn’t necessarily need these droplets to come from the well. She simply just needed enough to manipulate to be her savior.

 

     The trickling sound of liquid came forth. Her eyes caught the brick Breathing a sigh of relief, she called the water forward at a rapid pace. In response, the liquid rushed faster. Waving her hands again to shape it, she turned her prize into a solid staircase.

 

     “Perfect.”

 

     Stepping forward onto the first step, she felt a scorching burn on the bottom of her foot. Mera jumped back and bent her leg upward to take a look at the sole of her shoe. Melted clusters of shoe were peeled to the side. Little bits of polyvinyl remained stuck to the burn on her foot. Panic gripped her chest as her cheeks felt hot and flustered with understanding. The very essence of who she was, her home, was attacking her. Knowledge was right. They did not call it a trial because it was easy. Nevertheless, Mera found herself quite disturbed by this revelation. Water had always been a comfort. An element of peace for her. The lulling of the sea, even in its darkest hours, gave her strength and pride. Now, it was her sworn enemy and she had to call it back instead of forth. Not only did such an act go against everything she knew...it went against her very nature. Her mind could not wrap her head around being hurt by what she respected most.

 

Against the pain of rejection, she forced herself to reject her home right back. Pushing her hand forward, she tried to force the liquid back into the wall. At first, her efforts did the trick. The stairs collapsed and the water began to resend to the bricks.

 

     Until the water rejected her efforts all over again.

 

     The water started to come out of the walls faster. Pooling to the ground. Burning sensations began to creep over her feet and up her ankles. She pushed with her hand again and again, but it only seemed to make the water come at a quicker pace. Disobeying her will. Mera hopped desperately, trying to keep herself out of the water, but it pooled too quickly.

 

     Despite logic, she gripped onto the bricks, trying to push herself up the wall. Her nails scrapped down, chipping and cracking. As she suspected, the bricks could not support her. She kept slipping off into the water. Howling in pain. The element which had gave her life now was forsaking her.

 

Mera knew one thing for certain; if she did not think fast, she was, without a doubt, going to burn to death.

 

***

    

     Groans past Mera’s lips as she lay against the bed. Her body began to wriggle from an unseen force. The trial was underway, but with a twist, it did not exist solely in her mind. It was showing on her body. Arthur immediately gripped her hand only to see her ankles and legs beginning to blister. Eyes wide, he shook her, “Mera! Wake up! Wake up!” He continually shook her unresponsive body in his hands, dead weight as she had succumbed to another realm.

 

     “Mera!” He tried again in vein.

 

     “You cannot help her,” Knowledge’s presence loomed behind the King, “only she can wake herself.”

 

     Dangerous eyes shot over his shoulder, Arthur’s voice was primal with fury, “enough of this! You wake her up right now!”

 

     “I simply cannot.”

 

     Arthur stood, his presence swallowing the room whole, “think we got our wires crossed here. That wasn’t a request.”

 

     “You misunderstand,” Knowledge said patiently, “once the trial begins, it is out of my power to do anything.”

 

     “I don’t buy that,” he gestured to the scepter in Knowledge’s hand, “I’m willing to bet that little toy of yours can wake someone up if it can put ‘em to sleep.”

 

     “You would bet incorrectly,” Knowledge said. “A trial cannot be interrupted once begun. Only the Gods themselves can stop it. And such interferences have never occurred.”

 

     “Her body can’t take it!”

 

     “Then you had better hope she figures out how to go through each stage sooner rather than later...”

 

***

 

     Sizzling in water, it grew hotter by the second, Mera had to either act now or succumb to the trial. The latter was not an option. Balling up her fist, she made a fast decision. If the bricks could not support her, she would make them. Using her heightened strength, she cracked a hole in the wall of the well. Hopping up, she landed her foot in the hole. She then punched another hole higher up to grip onto. She hoisted herself up and put her other foot in the whole she had been holding before. She continued this motion, punching another hole to climb up, inching higher and higher. When she punched her hand at the well wall a fourth time, she heard the crack before feeling the pain.

 

     The smell of iron hit her nostrils as her fingers dangled crushed. She yelped loudly from the searing pain, wishing to kick the wall in response. Her legs were in bad enough condition; she did not need those to be broken too. Her mind scrambled in confusion. What the hell was happening here? Punching the wall had worked before! Why was it suddenly too strong for her? Then again, why had the water stopped listening to her when it first had begun to resend back where it originally came from. She closed her eyes tightly as the answer hit her. Gritting her teeth in frustration, “the trial is rigged. It learns. And, therefore, adapts.”

 

     Mera tried to formulate a way to leap up, so that she could jump high enough to launch herself out of the well. It had worked at the Farmhouse. She had jumped off of the railing and onto the second floor. Of course, the angles were different and she had a wider scope rather than a circular hole. Not to mention, the hole she had made for her foot was not sturdy, nor large enough, to use her strength to reach the well’s opening. Her teeth tightened. She could use the hole for her foot to shoot her to the other side of the well. Then, from there, do a wall kick to the opposite side. Of course, she would have to shoot back and forth in a straight line for 300 feet to reach the top with precision. Normally, such would not be a problem. But she was not her usual self. The strength and precision were greatly drained at the hands of her disease. Worse than that, the trial learned. It would adapt to her attempts before she could ever reach the top. She would likely fall into burning water, reaching an untimely end.

 

     What she feared to be true was reality. The only way up was the water. She bit her bottom lip, cursing such reality. Despite its high heat, she could survive if she was quick. The faster she moved the water, the quicker she would be lifted out. If she did it quickly enough, she might escape with mostly first degree burns. Her legs were another story, but they had already been submerged. Sighing, she looked down at the offensive water. Her home. Her demise.

 

     This was going to hurt.

 

***

 

     Holding Mera’s hand had to suffice. Both natural protectors, it wasn’t in Arthur, nor Mera’s, nature to sit idly by when the person they loved was in trouble. Right now, he was subjected to sit on his hands and do nothing. Sparring with Knowledge continued to have no effect. Dude swore up and down there was nothing that could be done since Mera’s trial had begun. A wall of skulls. A deal not yet made, but that in and of itself promised to be a trial. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Arthur didn’t believe a word out of this guy’s mouth. Still, he couldn’t deny that this Knowledge fella had the upper hand. Knowledge now had Mera. For all Arthur knew, it was what he was gunning for since the moment they stepped inside the catacombs.

 

     A groan fell past the Queen’s lips. Arthur leaned in closer. Blisters began covering her arms, neck, and deepened on her legs all the way up to her thighs.

 

     Arthur raged, making his body bigger, eyes now blazing. He practically roared as a lion would to threaten a countering predator. His trident was up, shoving it straight at Knowledge’s neck. He stopped only inches before pushing it straight through skin and bone.

 

     Knowledge did not flinch, but stood his ground in eerie peace.

 

     “I don’t trust you. You run this trial. You can end it. So you will or I will end you,” Arthur tightened his hold on the trident.

 

     “Brute force does not change the old ways. She cannot, and will not, wake up until she is victorious.”

 

     “See that’s where I think you’re yanking my chain. That’s where I’m thinking you’re just spewing words like ‘old ways’ and ‘Gods’ to sound like shit is beyond you. Let’s make one thing clear, I ain’t buying it!”

 

     “Quite clear,” Knowledge said, nodding at the trident, “but your belief in me is not required. The end result remains the same either way.”

 

     “Yeah? Cause I’m guessing if I shove this thing through your neck, this little game is over. Let’s find out,” Arthur said, shoving the trident just a little bit closer.

 

     “Uh. Uh. Uh,” Knowledge interjected, stopping Arthur’s swift motion just in time. He could feel the cool blade touching sharply against his thin skin, “if you kill me, Mera cannot return.”

 

     “Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” Knowledge went to answer, but Arthur interrupted with ferocity written across his face, “and if you use the terms ‘old ways’ and ‘Gods’ there is a lot worse things I can do than kill you.”

 

     Knowledge swallowed, holding up the purple and orange colors still dancing within the crystal of his scepter, “because only the Keeper of Knowledge activates the scepter. Upon my death, if a trial is in action, it ceases, and the soul inside is trapped within a nightmare realm for eternity. It is a safety precaution...in cases of...well...exactly as you are acting right now.”

 

     “Or you’re just saying that to save your own ass.”

 

     “I am not. Take the risk if you like,” Knowledge shrugged, “it is only Mera’s existence you gamble with.”

 

     Arthur stared at him for another hard second. From there, he ripped his trident away from Knowledge’s neck, knowing full well the man had him by the balls. He turned, looking back towards his love, still deeply unconscious.

 

     “She must beat the stages of the trial to wake up. It is the only way,” Knowledge said.

 

     Arthur turned slightly, “that’s the third time you said that.”

 

     “Said what?”

 

     “That she has to beat the trial to wake up.”

 

     “Yes.”

 

     “I thought if she fails, we don’t get to make a deal here.”

 

     “There is that too.”

 

     “You didn’t tell us that failure means. What? Death?”

 

     “You seemed to understand that.”

 

     “No. I understood the trial could take a toll on her body, hurting her, and maybe her disease could make it fatal. I was not under any impression the trial itself could be fatal,” he growled.

 

     “You have walked through walls of skulls. Yet, you and yours treat these matters as a game. Perhaps you should have taken the time to truly research what it means to come here.

    

Arthur glared.

 

“Oh, yes. That’s right. How silly of me to forget,” Knowledge waved off his forgetfulness, “you two don’t have a lot of time.”

 

“You said those skulls were due to people who crossed you,” The King’s tone was low and dangerous.

 

“Truly is the case. In some cases anyway. Did I forget to mention some of them failed the trail.”

 

Arthur took a heavy step towards Knowledge, “you did. You also said you wouldn’t add us to that collection.”

 

“No. No. I said I didn’t _want_ to add you to the collection. I never said I wouldn’t,” Knowledge smirked.

 

Grabbing Knowledge by the shirt, Arthur lifted him up and slammed him into the wall, “what kind of game are you playing at here?”

 

“Old ways. Gods,” Knowledge grinned.

 

Arthur slammed his back hard into the wall a second time, “you think you’re funny. You won’t be when I have you tried for the murder of a Queen in Atlantis.”

 

“Have more faith in Mera, Arthur. She’d be offended if she knew how greatly you were reacting.”

 

“You have set all of this up.”

 

“You sought me out! Not the other way around. If you do not like the ways here, you can get out! But Mera stays...until she has seen it through. One way or another. There is no changing that! So put me down or I will not make a deal to save her life if she survives. And then this truly will have been for not!”

 

Grunting, Arthur set him down rather hard. Knowledge straightened his clothes out, “if your Queen survives, you are out. I will be dealing with her directly.”

 

“Like hell,” Arthur snarled, “if Mera gets out of here alive, you pull anymore crap and I won’t be willing to listen to any more of your logic. I won’t have anything to lose giving you the taste of my trident.”

 

Knowledge read him for a moment and he knew this to be the truth. The pair may have been seeking his help, but they weren’t his run of the mill hero types he was used to hearing about. They didn’t like to shed blood, but they _would_. If needed. Arthur was truly starting to believe it was needed here.

 

“Very well,” Knowledge said, “let our differences not get in the way of Mera. It is where both our interests rest.”

 

Taking Mera’s hand again, Arthur returned his support to her directly. Her poor, beaten body fighting while Arthur felt himself fail on the other side.

 

***

 

Trying to limit the burns on her skin proved impossible. When she tried to compel the water to turn into a hand to quickly grab her, and lift her to the top of the well, it refused to budge. There was only one way and Mera had to hope the trial had not, once again, adapted to her understanding. If she tried to push the water back where it came from, hopefully the trial would believe she was desperate and causing her own demise. Worst case, it would not budge and once again she would need a new plan.

 

Lifting her hand, Mera reached out with her mind. Her eyes lit up blue as she tried pushing the water back with everything she had in her. She needed it to rise fast and-

 

The water swelled up. The trial tricked by her. She felt the hotness come up submerging her. Too hot to open her mouth to scream, within seconds she found herself spilled up and out of the wall. She rolled herself to the side on a dry section of the grass.

 

Grass...

 

She looked up and saw a only a blue sky too clear to be real. Sighing, she lay her head back on the ground. Breathing in and out heavily. She recuperated for a moment and geared up for phase two of her trial.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger Warning in this chapter! 
> 
> This chapter is a little darker. It does deal in torture; however, I did not go into graphic detail. Being that it's my first fic I've written, I'm sorta dipping into how dark I'm comfortable writing. And how dark people are comfortable reading. The chapter certainly is intense, so I wanted to give a heads up.)

Under the dimly lit firelight, Mera’s face connected with a dirt floor. She could have sworn her fingers, moments ago, were gripping sweet green grass as she hoisted herself out of a well. Instead, with one good hand pushing herself off the ground, she found dirt beneath her nails. Staring up, three men stood before her, dressed in garb she did not recognize. It was clothing Arthur had never worn. Their boots past their ankles, black, and their pants poofed out as they were tucked in their shoes.  They wore long jackets and shirts so strange to her eyes. They seemed upscale, a white ruffled collar hanging around their necks. Her eyes, darting down at herself, proved to have a different sort of strangeness. She wore what must have been the plainest of dresses. Ripped. Her legs before her looked as though they had not been bathed in a week, the burns from the previous trial still present. On top of it, her shoes were missing.

 

Then there was the room itself. The room proved to be the most frightening part. There was a large contraption in the middle that, she noted, had binds on them. She was sure it was to hold a person. And she was sure _she_ would be that person. Near the men there was a table of sharp objects. She did not need to guess who that would be used upon.

 

_“Confess!”_

The chorus of voices sounded around her. She peered between their angry, unfriendly faces.

 

“What…what is happening?” She looked between them. “Where is Arthur?”

 

The three men looked between each other somewhat perplexed.

 

The man in the middle, stepped forward, and she immediately noted that he was in charge of this charade.

 

“Now why on earth would you want to see him?”

 

Mera swallowed, staring up at the antagonizing face. The man had piercing blue eyes that made her body feel cold. They were especially bright beneath his black hair and matching black beard.

 

Harsh fingers gripped her chin, squeezing her jaw, “answer the question.”

 

Right about then she wished to use her hydrokensis, but it would not work. Water hurt her and this was a trial, was it not? It had to be one of the trails. Either that, or she had completely gone mad. Yet, she did not understand what was happening. Where was she? Was she somewhere in the catacombs? Was this a whole other world made up by the trial Gods? Yet, she asked for Arthur knowing full well he could not help. She could fight. Yes, she could fight well, even with a busted hand, but not without assessing whatever situation she was in first. Mera had to push past surprise and back into strategy mode.

 

“Because I love him,” Mera said, unable to backtrack her initial cry for Arthur.

 

The man pushed her back onto the ground before looking toward the other men, “do you hear that? Really! Did you hear that? She loves the man who passed the law to burn her kind!”

 

Mera’s brow furrowed. What the hell were they talking about?

 

One of the men, he was bald with chocolate eyes smirked, “she’s probably trying to put a love spell on him, so he won’t kill her. Won’t work there, Missy. You ain’t got any of your witchcraft paraphernalia here.”

 

“You can confess. Or we can make you,” the Piercing Blue-Eyed man said.

 

“Confess to what?” Mera glared, “I do not know you! I don’t know any of you! And Arthur could never be responsible for all of this!”

 

“Maybe she’s trying to go for insanity?” The Bald Man questioned.

 

“Most people would rather die than go to the madhouse,” the shortest of the men said. He was rather attractive with his boyish face, but his smile was mean, reminding Mera of an alligator.

 

The leader grabbed Mera up by her red locks, “it’s gonna hurt, Mera. When we burn you. it’s gonna hurt a lot. And we _will_ burn you. But it doesn’t have to hurt before that point. That choice is completely up to you.”

 

_Okay. Enough of this. Whatever this was…_

 

She could take on three men. She had taken on far more training in Xebel with her mentor. Men who were much stronger than Surface Dwellers, oh yes. Using all her might, she was ready to push the man back and send him flying into the other two.

 

To her surprise, the man easily caught her arms between his hands. He held her in place as though she were nothing more than a feather in his grip. She pushed more against him, trying to get her body to twist in the ways that could easily free her from his grip. Yet, her body would not move in the ways that it bad been trained. It was as though she had never trained a day in life. Mera suddenly had the muscle mass of a Surface Woman instead of a Xebellian Woman.

 

“A-h-h-h,” Mera hollered, denial, using everything she could to push back against her foe.

 

As a result, Mera was thrown to the ground. The Blue-Eyed Man kicked her hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her. She doubled over, holding her gut, crying out.

 

“I told you she was a pain in the ass,” the Bald Man said, “she don’t learn.”

 

“I’ll take care of that,” her interrogator promised as he faced the two men behind him. Swiftly, he turned back and kicked Mera, once, twice, three times, in the stomach.

 

The pain in her abdomen took her breath away. Pain she never should have felt from a Surface Dweller. Pain she could handle with relative ease from another warrior. Her biology allowed her to rebound fairly easily. Adrenaline often carried her though battles, only feeling their weight once safe and able to recuperate. Everything about who she was, was suddenly gone. The first trial had taken her hydrokensis and made her home her enemy. The second trial had made her a mere mortal.

 

A mortal in the face of excruciating torture and death.

 

What was the point of these trials? Was there anything more than seeing if she was the sharpest, and the strongest, to take what was given to her? To survive what was taken from her?

 

Gripping her up by the hair again, the Blue-Eyed man hoisted her onto her knees. Mera gritted her teeth as, likely, broken ribs hollered at her. The man held no sympathy in his face. Closed fist, he pulled his arm back before delivering a blow into her face.

 

“Don’t make me get the whip, girl,” he yelled as she stared at the ground in a daze. He waited for a response that did not come. He coaxed her again, “why did the neighbors say they saw you make the waters of the well bubble? You burnt yourself,” he pointed to her legs, “was dabbling with the fires of hell worth it?”

 

Mera looked up, defiance in her bruised eye, “as long as I do not confess, you cannot burn me.”

 

“Oh no, my Dear. All we need is evidence,” the Blue-Eyed man responded.

 

“You must not have it if you resort to these measures. I think I will hold out until then.”

 

“If you can hold out. “

 

“Your game is torture me until you get a confession. Even false.”

 

“Only the fires can purify you and save your soul. We aim for you to see reason.”

 

“Nothing said can be trusted under duress. Anyone will agree to anything to make unimaginable pain stop.”

 

“Get the whip,” he looked over his shoulder.

 

The Bald Man nodded and crossed the room.

 

Frustrated, the Blue-Eyed Man grabbed up a pair of scissors, cutting away her long, red locks.

 

“Ah, you’re not supposed to do that until they confess,” the Alligator noted, leaning lazily against the wall now.

 

“Get me the razor,” was her captor’s only response.

 

The Alligator sighed before pushing himself off the wall, retrieving the straight edge razor from the small table, and handed it to his boss.

 

Mera gasped as he brutally shaved away her locks, blood seeping down her forehead while she yelped.

 

“It won’t matter. I’m gonna see to it that this little bitch confesses. She’s why we’ve had all the problems in our town. I’m gonna make sure it ends with her,” he spat.

 

***

 

Blood seeped from Mera’s head. Arthur felt himself wanting to scream, wanting to fight Knowledge, but to what result? The man could not, or would not, wake her. Carefully, fussing over her, Arthur looked at the lesions beginning to form through her soft, red locks, soaking them.

 

“You could at least get me a damn cloth to wipe her,” Arthur spat.

 

Knowledge looked over his shoulder, “ah. I see she’s made it out of the well.” He made several tisking sounds with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “they never do confess easily, do they?”

 

“Confess? What the hell are you talking about?” Arthur snapped, his focus on her bloody and bruised face. Every passing second, her physical condition grew worse.

 

Knowledge only smirked.

 

“You’re pushing me real close to my breaking point, Asshole.”

 

“Again?” Knowledge quipped.

 

Arthur gruffed, watching as Mera’s body almost seemed to jump from the bed. Again. And again. And again.

 

What. The. Hell?

 

Gently, he turned her over, blood leaking through her clothing from her back. Quick hands, he whipped her shirt up. Long lash marks had appeared, bruising and blooding her once milky skin. Arthur went pale. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat, threatening to pour out before returning back down to rest uneasily.

 

“You’re going to kill her,” he said slowly.

 

“I don’t know. I think she is stronger than you are giving her credit for. Yee have little faith.”

 

Arthur stood, broadening his shoulders, ready to throw down.

 

“Oh, we are doing this again, are we?” Knowledge smirked, “it won’t wake her up any faster.”

 

“What is the point of all of this? When you get something from a deal? Why do this?”

 

“And once again, I don’t make the rules. I am simply chained to them,” Knowledge said, “lighten up, my Friend. She will be fine. Mera of Xebel,” he put his hand to his forehead, “I see her clear. The things she accomplished as only a teen. The wars she saw in Xebel. Did you know she once tried to save refugees of war in the middle of battle? She could not bear the innocent to be harmed. For this, her mentor threw his hand around her throat, squeezing so tightly.” Knowledge, gasped for breaths as if trying to breathe himself.

 

Arthur paused, he didn’t know any of this. She hadn’t told him, but then, she spoke very little about her life in Xebel. The only little bit she had ever given him was that she once taught seahorses to ‘dance’. Well, more like sway, to music. Apparently, her father was less amused about it than she was, but she it didn’t stop her any. He dug it. He’d like dancing seahorses at their wedding.

 

Knowledge, recovering from the faux strangulation Arthur had concerned himself little over, returned his gaze on the King, “her mentor was so disappointed in her. Yet, she could never fully be trained out of helping a lost bird,” he pointed at Arthur, the implication clear. “Duty and nation came second to Mera, even if she thought they came first. She’d do anything for justice.”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“It takes a strong woman to stand up and do what no one else around them is doing. That is my point. She is strong. And she is strong-willed. Give her a chance to use that strength to live before you bury her.”

 

Arthur sighed, “strong-will helps. I get it. But her body was already gravely sick when we came in here. Her health can only take so much.”

 

“Then we will see. After all, Arthur Curry. There is but no other choice.”

 

***

The floor was Mera’s new friend. Back bared and bleeding, her arms and legs were now bound. Mera wished she could say she hadn’t given these men the satisfaction of her screams. They had echoed through the chamber like a desperate storm. However much satisfaction they had taken from her pain, and the vigor of the whip told her they had taken much pleasure from it, it did not compensate for dissatisfaction which followed. She could be proud of herself for she did not confess.

 

For all intense and purpose, she was guilty of the charge. Technically, one might say she was a sea witch given her hydrokensis. It was neither here nor there, if such was against the law in this place. She harmed no one with it and she refused to stand up and admit to something she did not feel guilty over. Even if she was, technically, guilty. In the back of her head, as she laid upon a floor that somehow now felt like a pillow, lying made her feel as though she hid her craft out of shame. She was not ashamed. But it was not, at this point in time, about owning your truth. It was not about hiding who you are because of potential fallout. If it were the case that she was merely to be burned at the stake because she was a witch, well, throw the flame. She would go down not lying about who she was when there was nothing wrong with it.

 

The trouble was...Mera was not living in reality. She was existing in a trial. She did not know what path the Trial Gods were asking her to take. Was it to own her truth? Was it to hold on? If it were about owning her truth than why would the last trial have used her power against her?

 

 “It’s nothing more than a guessing game,” she murmured.

 

“What was that now?” A male’s voice came.

 

Mera rolled her eyes. She should have supposed she wouldn’t be alone. Even bound, they did not trust her to somehow get free.

 

“Don’t you think if I were a witch, I could magically undo the binds and get myself out of here,” Mera said.

 

“You ain’t got your paraphernalia. You’re no good without your cauldron and what have you’s,” The Bald Man said.

 

“According to the charge, I was making water bubble. I wasn’t carrying a cauldron about in public. Or any paraphernalia.”

 

“Bite your tongue or I’ll bite it off for you,” the Bald Man threatened, a heavy boot stomping forward.

 

Mera rolled her eyes, “when one cannot form a sound rebuttal, they threaten, rather than entertain the possibility they might be wrong.”

 

A snap sounded in the air.

 

Mera cried out before biting her tongue. Yet another lash on her back to match its friends.

 

“Hey now. No more of that, My Friend,” the Blue-Eyed man’s voice called out after the swing of the dungeon door creaked open. “We have a guest.’

 

“Oh! Your excellency. Truly, an honor,” The Bald Man fumbled over himself.

 

Mera couldn’t see anything other than the dirt of the floor. Whoever had entered was important. As she felt hard hands hoist her up from her armpits, she knew she was about to see who had joined them.

 

Harshly, she was turned around, facing her new captor.

 

There, in the same silly clothes the others before her insisted upon wearing, stood her betrothed.

 

Arthur Curry.

 

He smiled her way. She had never seen it look so cruel.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger Warning!
> 
> This chapter gets a massively bigger trigger warning than my last one. People seemed to be enjoying this trial after the last chapter. Sooo, I went back and added some things to play with it some more. I added scenes and details. So, I pushed myself to be truer to the scenery I'm playing with rather than shy away from the darkness. So, yeah, this chapter gets darker (at least I think it does, but I'm also kind of a wuss ha!) Again, I'm not gory, but I'm not very nice either. So, if it's not your thing you might want to skip this chapter. Okay...here we go...
> 
>  
> 
> Also, again, the formatting on here hates me, but it's like 2 in the morning, so I'm too tired to fuss with it. la la la...)

The wounds on Mera’s back sizzled. Legs weak beneath her, she needed the hands of the men holding her up to keep her from toppling to the ground. Her head hung forward, more exhausted than she wished to admit. They did not allow for her to sleep since coming into this hell hole. They gave her no water. No sustenance of any kind. Was she surprised? No. Torture from every angle so she would confess quicker. Still, surprised or not, she felt the effects. It was weighing her body down. She refused to let it take her spirit.

 

Fingers lightly tapped her chin before lifting her face up. She stared Arthur Curry in the face.

 

The plot thickens, but what did it mean?

 

“So, this is the little lady who tried to put a love spell on me?” Arthur smirked.

 

She rolled her eyes, “they really fed you that line because of one thing I said in here.”

 

Arthur smirked, “that’s the point of being in here. Everything you say matters.”

 

He lifted his hand up, feeling the fuzz that had once been long red locks. He looked to the Blue-Eyed man who was holding Mera up on one side, “a little premature.”

           

“She pissed me off,” he answered.

 

Arthur sighed, “the next court date is in three days. if she hadn’t confessed by then, and she comes out with her hair ready for a burning, the town’s people will cry corruption. And they will be right to do so.”  Turning, he walked away for a moment, only to whip back and punch Mera’s interrogator hard in the face.

 

The man was knocked back several steps.

 

Mera swayed to the right, resting on her thighs, barely held up by the one arm her Bald assailant still gripped.

 

Arthur walked past Mera, finger in the face of the Blue-Eyed man, “you are to do everything by the book! Every! Single! Thing! Do you think this is a game?”

 

“No,” the Blue-Eyed man croaked out.

 

“Your ego is more important than the assault we are under by these witches? Is that it?” Arthur continued to verbally batter the man.

 

“No!” The Blue-Eyed man promised once more.

 

Arthur grabbed the Blue-Eyed up by the collar of his shirt, “if she doesn’t confess, we are going to face public hell in three days. You have left us no choice! Three days. You got that. Three!”

 

“Three days, yes,” the Blue-Eyed man nodded.

 

“If she does not confess within that time, we are going to have to recommend to the court she walk free. It will be our only chance of saving face. All because of your mistake! And she, ” Arthur pointed at Mera, “will be safe to do the Devil’s bidding once more!”

 

“Won’t people still see her hair, even if we let her go,” the Bald man said.

 

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Arthur sighed before shoving the Blue-Eyed man out of his grasp, where he slightly stumbled, “you are dismissed. I will see to this matter myself.”

 

The Blue-Eyed man straightened out his shirt and jacket before leaving in a huff.

 

“Alright then. So if the town’s people gonna see her hair anyway, why not cut out her tongue. Pretend she confessed,” the Bald Man said.

 

Arthur stared at him for a long, hard second, “have you ever heard of a thing called morals? Do you seek to burn innocent people? Are you insinuating that sometimes you do lie about the confessions you get?”

 

“No,” the Bald man, having just seen the attack on his colleague, knew he needed to backtrack fast, “that ain’t what I meant at all. No, sir. I only meant. Cause of this one time. Since we know she’s guilty. Gone and talked about it herself with that love spell.”

 

Arthur sighed, a look on his face that expressed exasperation over the morons surrounding him, “she didn’t actually use the words love spell. Did she?”

 

“Well, no…but-“

 

“Then it isn’t a confession. If it were, your eager friend out there,” he gestured towards the exit, “would have ceased torture hours ago. The confession we get has to be her’s; otherwise, it is not the law. It is not by the book. That matters. Our town is one of integrity, even if our citizens do not always show it,” he glared at Mera, who remained slumped over.

 

“What will you say if she doesn’t confess? How will you explain it away?” The Bald Man asked.

 

“I won’t. Your friend out there will have a trial of his very own. One where he will be found guilty of manipulating the law. From there he will be flogged in the town square and likely imprisoned for several years. Now!” Arthur clapped his hands, “I believe the interrogation is supposed to be towards the witch. Not me.” Arthur bent down, whispering in Mera’s ear as she dangled, “isn’t that right?”

 

Mera didn’t respond.

 

Arthur straightened his back, “we are going to have a lot of fun.”

 

***

 

Water didn’t burn in this trial. But she couldn’t breathe under it. And she couldn’t manipulate it. All night this version of Arthur had kept her awake, slapping her face if she dared try to slumber. Worse, she could feel the disease’s mighty grip clawing at her from the inside. It seemed, even here, she needed her tonic. Towards mid-day, her legs began to twitch, her skin felt as though it were bubbling, but no one was the wiser. When the jerking impulses did begin to strike, she found herself strapped down to a table that was attached a lever.

 

“Are you a witch?” Arthur would ask.

 

Again and again, she would shake her head no. Again and again, down she went, submerged into a deep container of ice cold water, Unable to breathe and hear, feeling of fire and freezing consumed her. Mera would try and thrash, to twitch her legs, to cry and convulse, but the binds stubbornly held her in place. Arthur took the franticness of her position to be the water torture doing its job. It _was_ doing its job, but he had no way of knowing his torture had a helping hand: the inner battle plaguing his subject,

 

“You’re going to kill me,” her teeth chattered.

 

Arthur shrugged, “we try not to. Only one person hath drowned before. But they were elderly and you are young. You will be quite well.”

 

Again, she was thrust into the water.

 

Arthur watched Mera scramble beneath the water, “perhaps, well was too optimistic a term.”

 

Mera thought about playing unconscious. It would be smart, but she was scared.  Scared of how they would try and rouse her. Scared they wouldn’t believe her tactic and, somehow, their punishments could get worse. She had never felt scared before, not in a paralyzing way. It wasn’t her nature. But, every part of her nature was robbed. Suddenly, she didn’t have the tools that gave her confidence. Suddenly, there was only she, a madman in the shape of her fiancé, and her illness to keep her company.

 

Up she went again, coughing and spewing water mixed with sickness. Arthur held his hand up to the Bald Man who had been working the lever. Frustration fell across his features. He had risen to his position because he was a man who was able to get answers. He was known for his successful work throughout Europe. Before he held political office, he had gone from town to town as a witch hunter, getting courts the confessions needed to cleanse their towns of these beasts. Suddenly, he had a stubborn woman who would not break. Part of him was impressed. He had seen the strongest of men snap quickly after sleep deprivation alone. If not, the water torture did the trick. Yet, here she was, shaking beneath his winter storm and still, as he came to look her in the face, Mera’s eyes were defiant.

 

“How do you explain the mark?” Arthur asked.

 

“What mark?” She looked at him confused.

 

“She does this. Acts as though she don’t got no clue what’s going on. Where she is. Who we are. Everyone is telling me…everyone keeps saying, no one wants to be going to the madhouse. But, I think she might be trying for it,” The Bald Man said.

           

Arthur nodded, “perhaps, she thinks it is better than burning,” Arthur looked Mera directly in the eyes, his voice almost gentle, “burning hurts as the fires consume, but it is for but a minute. The madhouse, my Dear, is life. And it is no place any lady, nor man, should wish to suffer through. Give me a moment’s agony than a lifetime of extended torments.”

 

“Gladly,” Mera spat.

 

He patted her cheek patronizingly, “do you need another lesson with the whip?” Or maybe, I’ll give you a little taste of the stake. Witches roasting on an open fire. The flames will but kiss your skin.  You’ll be crisp, but you’ll live.”

 

Mera bit her bottom lip.

 

Arthur smiled, “no, wit, My Dear?” He waited, but she was silent, “I didn’t think so.”

 

Mera felt her body jerk, her toes curling, her good hand making a fist.

 

Arthur stepped back, “what is wrong with her?”

 

The Bald Man took a step back, “it be the devil itself! It comes through her.”

 

Mera’s throat extended in pain, gasps escaping as sharp sensations boiled through her body. Her legs were cramping, tears poured down her face, “please. Please. I didn’t do anything. I need my medicine. Get me my medicine,” she hollered as though Arthur, _her_ Arthur, might suddenly hear her.

 

***

 

“She spit up her medicine,” Arthur sighed, having tilted Mera’s head back, trying to pour the tonic down her throat.

 

The tonic _had_ gone down, but up it had come when the water and sickness had been spewed out during the trial. Her medicine now ran down her chin and neck.

 

“Do you have more?” Knowledge asked.

 

“Shouldn’t you _know_ if I do?”

 

“Stop with that old joke.”

 

“Oh, but you liked it when Mera said it.”

 

“And both times, I found it annoying when you did. Perhaps, you are not as funny as her.”

 

“Hey, I’m the funny one in the relationship.”

 

“I _know_ that isn’t true.”

 

Arthur glared at Knowledge, “oh, but you can make it. You know what…shove it.” He then reached into his pocket, taking out the other tonic he had brought. As he went to deliver it into her mouth, her body began shaking, convulsing, as the pain of her disease riddled her body. It was so aggressive, that if he was off by a freaking minute giving her the tonic, this illness ripped through her like a tidal wave.

 

“Hold her down!” Arthur ordered Knowledge.

 

“I cannot interfere. She’s in trial. I should not even allow you to give her that tonic, but I am being kind.”

 

“Yeah, you’re really benevolent,” Arthur snorted, getting himself positioned on the bed, “sorry, Babes. This might not feel good…” He held her down with one hand, lightly hurting already bruised, if not cracked, ribs due to the weight of his body. His legs brushing against her burned ones would be torture in and of itself if she could feel what he was doing. He hoped to the Gods she could not. Her head thrashed back and forth, giving him no way to get the tonic in. He had to wait it out, wait for the right moment and…then her head slowed…one perfect moment. He shoved the vial in, the liquid dripping down her throat. He closed her mouth so it couldn’t come back up.

 

He didn’t breathe, not until her body ceased. The tonic was down the hatch. It seemed to have settled her for now.

 

***

 

Once her convulsions ceased, Mera was dragged back to the original torture chamber she had begun this trial inside. Most people might have seen her convulsions as a sign to cease torture for the day. Arthur Curry, on the other hand, was more motivated than ever to get the answers he demanded. Binding Mera’s hands, he took her bad one and squeezed her fingers hard.

 

Mera screamed.

 

Arthur slapped her in the mouth, “quiet!”

 

He let her fingers go.

 

Mera heaved in and out, wanting to nurse her hand, but she was unable to move her wrists now.

 

Heavy boots paced in front of her, going from one side of the room to the other. Back and forth, and back and forth, Arthur walked with his hands behind his back. Angrily, he was lost in thought. He turned towards her and the woman before him looked so small. So frightened. And he was glad.

 

“You dare tell me you do not know the devil, yet we witness you dance with him only moments before?”

 

Mera shook her head, tears falling from her eyes. She was so tired. The room was so fuzzy. Her hand was throbbing. Everything was throbbing. She simply shook her head over and over again.

 

“Answer me with words, Girl,” Arthur demanded.

 

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him, “you keep going and going until you force people to say what you wish! If these are the ways you get confessions than no one has ever truly confessed!”

 

“Your complaint has been duly noted,” Arthur said flippantly, “now answer my question.”

 

There was no ability to reason with people who take glee from pain and suffering. She could see it in his eyes. How glad he was to make her tremble.

 

How ashamed she felt for trembling…

 

“I’m sick.”

 

“You are at that,” Arthur snorted.

 

“No. It is a medical condition. I have fits of pain. I cannot control it. There is no devil.”

 

Arthur glared, “I saw the devil come through you! Did you curse us? Is that what that was?”

 

“No!” She hollered.

 

He got into her face, screaming now, “did you try to scare us? Did you think we would release you in fright?”

 

“No!”

 

            “We are holy men! God aids us in our journey! The devil cannot release you from God’s will!” He screamed so loud in her face, spit was flying in her eyes.

 

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

 

            Smoke might have well have shot out of his nostrils when he grunted. He took a step back, calming himself before soundly asking, “and what of the mark?”

 

“What mark? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about!”

 

“The mark on the back of your knee. The sign you danced with the devil!”

 

Mera squinted, “my birthmark? You’re reaching. Just about everyone has them. If that’s all it takes for you to condemn a person, go up and down the street. You will have everyone in your dungeon.”

 

“Are you telling me there are other witches?”

 

For a moment, her terror was gone. She was too busy staring at him as though he were the biggest moron she had ever seen in her entire life. He might very well be, “this version of you is an idiot.”

 

Arthur hands were making fists. He looked as though he were about ready to reach out and pummel her. And why not? It was what they were here for, but he couldn’t just knock her around. Clearly. She wouldn’t break. Not yet. He would get there. He would be damned if some little girl got the best of him.

 

Sighing, Arthur shook his head, “walk her.”

 

Mera tilted her head. In a strange practice, she found The Bald Man, and with the Alligator joining him, grabbing onto each arm. She was walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, not just for the rest of the day, but the rest of the night. Unable to be allowed to sleep, she was forced awake, for yet another night, forced to move on painful legs with painful ribs. It didn’t matter if she heaved, or threw up, or cried. She was walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

 

Here and there, Arthur would come in and ask her for her confession, ask her why she had danced with the devil in front of them, and each time she had ignored him. No longer bothering to answer his questions. Until, finally, around dawn, her eyes began to glaze over. Little by little, she felt it happening. Her mind going places, other places…leaving her…

 

She looked around, feeling confused, feeling…

 

Feeling lost.

 

“Where’s, Arthur?” She asked as the sickness began, once again, taking her mind as it had down so sneakily in front of Vulko days prior.

 

“Do you wish to confess?” The Alligator asked.

 

“Where is he?” Mera asked, looking up at the strange man in a daze.

 

“You will only confess to him?” The Alligator tried to make sense of Mera’s strange behavior, though given sleep deprivation and lack of sustenance, it was to be expected.

 

She tried to yank herself away from the men holding her, making a fussy noise with her mouth, “I want Arthur.”

 

“Get, Arthur!” The Alligator shouted, tightening his grip on her, “she wishes to confess!”

 

A half hour later, Arthur came bounding into the dungeon. He hastily approached where the men continued to walk Mera despite her innocent whining. Arthur held a hand up for them to stop.

 

Mera smiled at once seeing Arthur before her. In such a deteriorating state, she found herself believing this man to be _her_ Arthur.

 

Arthur lifted a brow, almost scared himself, wondering if that smile meant this was a ruse to curse him, “well, tell me, Girl,” he pushed on, “do you wish to confess?”

 

Arthur sounded far away to her. She could hardly make sense of his words. She tried to pull away from the men to go to him, but they tightened their grip.

 

“Mera, do you wish to confess or not?” Arthur shouted at her.

 

His tone caught Mera by surprise and she recoiled away from him in confusion. Confused as to why he was mad at her. Confused as to why he was not taking her in his arms, “Arthur…” she said quietly.

 

“Are you playing games with me, Girl?”

 

She squinted at him, seeing his furrowing brow. His stance intensifying. Despite her melting mind, her gut told her she was in trouble, “why are you mad at me?”

 

            Arthur reached forward and gripped her face hard between his thumb and index finger, “she wastes my time! Fetch me the whip.”

 

            Immediately, The Bald Man crossed the room handing Arthur the whip. The Alligator turned Mera around at once, untying the string on the back of her dress. Her back bare, Mera stared in wild concern as both men held her arms. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know this strange setting. She wanted Arthur. She wanted his arms. She wanted to be held. What were these men doing? She did not like this! She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Arthur bring the whip down on her already hurt back.

 

            She cried out in as much sadness as she did agony.

 

Again the whip fell and again she cried.

 

            “Arthur! No!”

 

Once more, he brought the whip down. He didn’t hesitate to bring it down for a fourth time, nor a fifth time, punishing her for playing games. Punishing her for smiling at him. Punishing her for acting like she knew him.

 

“I want this witch burned,” he shouted as he threw the whip aside after the final lashing.

 

Mera cried as Arthur walked around where she was slumped over in the air. He grabbed her face and held it to his. She stared up at him not understanding, her expression as wounded as her back, “I thought you loved me…” she croaked out.

 

Arthur shook his head and threw her face out of his grip.

 

“Maybe she is mad,” The Bald Man said.

 

“Maybe. But a mad witch is still a witch,” Arthur nodded, “walk her.”

 

The men began walking Mera as she sobbed.

 

***

 

On the other side of the trial, Knowledge watched through his crystal as Arthur continually fussed over his fiancé. There he saw the disease take her mind.  And without her mind, well, there was no chance for her to come through the trial. Knowledge nodded his head in understanding. It would be an ending he was ultimately comfortable with in the long run.


	13. Chapter 13

Arthur had hurt her.

 

The soft hands once used to for pulling her in, holding her, framing her face while he kissed her lips, had turned cruel. Her safe space was now robbed. Her fragile mind could not fathom where she was, who these people were, and what she had done for Arthur to side with those harming her. And for Arthur to harm her himself.  When even her interrogators realized her legs could no longer walk, they set her down on the ground. Never allowing her eyes to sleep, they would splash cold water in her face.

 

“Just confess,” the Alligator sighed aggravated when she continually refused to give into their torture, “it’s only gonna get worse from here.”

 

Mera knew he was speaking to her, but she could not get her mind to translate the words he was saying. She spoke the language, she could hear the words, but none of them could come together in ways her brain might understand. Exhaustion and sickness were driving her into the ground. More than that, she had lost home: Arthur. She sat out of it, trying to make sense of her infractions. She wished to weep, but tears that flowed freely after her last beating, were now caught in her throat. At times, she would catch herself, dazedly trying to ask for Arthur. At the last second, she remembered the biting whip. She remembered his angry voice. She remembered his cool eyes. She wished she could cry.

 

Was there no one to explain to her what was going on? She asked, on occasion, but the men claimed she was playing more of her games. Or, they would decide, she was, in fact, insane. She would scream how she didn’t understand! She didn’t… Why was she not back in Atlantis? Why was she not ruling beside the King? Why was she not upon the surface with Salty, their dog? Why could she remember all these things, but not how she had come to be here? And how she had come to be hated by Arthur…

 

She missed him.

 

It was hurting her heart so desperately. She had half a mind to confess to them as they wished because what worse could happen? Perhaps, she had done the terrible things they must have thought her to do. After all, they were treating her worse than any prisoner in Atlantis was treated. Arthur was overseeing her mistreatment. He had raised his hand to her when it went against his very nature.

 

She must have been guilty.

 

Yet, her mouth could not bring herself to give in and she did not understand this stubborn side  lingering within.

 

But if she confessed…maybe she could apologize. And then maybe Arthur would hold her as he used to and tell her it was okay. All would be forgiven and he would love her again. He could nurse the wounds on her back and they could start over. For a moment, Mera caught herself smiling dreamily.

 

“Why do you wear such an expression, Little girl?”

 

The familiar voice caught her ears. Her eyes flickered up. She hadn’t heard the door to the chamber swing open. Open it had, because Arthur was standing in front of her. Instead of her smile accentuating as it should upon seeing him, she found she was instead receding into herself. Her stomach felt gross as it flipped, making her cheeks heat up, as though they were sunburnt.

 

There was no confession she could give him that would make those hard eyes love her again.

 

“What did I do?” She asked him again.

 

Arthur looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath, “I cannot tell if you are truly mad or if the devil washes your memory. That is what you get for playing with the devil. For doing his bidding. He protects himself by compromising what you remember.” Arthur then paused, considering his ideas, “perhaps, both theories are correct. Perhaps, the devil’s hand is why you have gone mad.”

 

Mera stared at him blankly. The odd way of which he spoke to her, so unfamiliar, she could hardly make sense of his words. Any of their words, in fact. Her tired and bruised eyes felt too heavy.

 

“She needs to sleep,” Arthur looked at the men.

 

“You cannot be serious,” The Alligator huffed, “after all that work we put in! She will not crack if she sleeps.”

 

“Yes, how terrible, you were exercised for a night,” Arthur snorted.

 

“It was much longer than a night,” The Alligator argued. “It will undo everything we worked towards. Look at her. She is inches away from giving in.”

 

“You challenge me and what I know is best?” Arthur growled, taking a threatening step towards his opponent, “I have been doing this for a lot longer than you have. I recognize the signs of when a person reaches the incapacity to understand the words around them being formed. She cannot confess to us if she cannot make sense of us.”

 

“She’s been up for two days,” The Bald Man said in a more conversational voice, “seen women handle worse than that.”

 

Arthur nodded, “truly, but as she said before. She is ill. Her features are pale. She has gotten sick due to the devil’s hand. It drains her of her energy,” Arthur said, “we won’t get a confession this way. We will use more extreme measures after she rests.”

 

The Alligator seemed appeased by those plans because he no longer argued with his boss. He walked with The Bald Man towards Mera. They each grabbed her up on both sides, causing her to wriggle in alarm. It was of no use. Her weakened state was not hard to fight and they simply ignored the crying whines escaping her voice.

 

“Bring her to her cell. We will try again twenty-four hours from now…”

 

***

Her cell was lonely.

 

More than that, it was cold, smelled like sick, and was much too stuffy. There was itchy straw upon the ground for her to curl up upon. It softened the hard floor, but it poked at burnt legs and a split back. She found herself curled up upon the opposite corner of the cell. She rested her head against the headache inducing wall. Her eyes were sleepy, but without sense her mind was able to keep her awake.

 

There was no getting into Arthur’s good graces. Thoughts a a whirlwind of depressing facts, her sadness was exasperated by throbbing pain. She wished for a bath. Mera felt so dirty. She _was_ dirty.  She was filth. She felt wrong. She _was_ wrong. She felt bad. She _was_ bad. It was why she was in here. Maybe, when Arthur was staring her in the face before, she simply should have taken her chance to apologize. Sometimes an ‘I’m sorry’ went a longer way than one might believe. And yet, it was hard to apologize when she did not know what to apologize for. No one would tell her. She was supposed to know. Try as she might to think upon it, pull on her hair that was hardly there, she could only wheeze in agony.

 

Safety was gone.

 

Mera had gone with it.

 

Who was she without the throne? Without her power? Without Arthur?

 

All that was left was a hallow heart and a broken mind.

 

 

***

Waking Mera proved to be a difficult affair. The Alligator wound up checking her pulse to make sure she hadn’t bit it in her sleep. Heart beating, he shook her harder. When her eyes did flutter open, she kicked herself up and away from him at once. The Alligator caught her by the leg, dragging her towards him, “none of that.”

 

Mera bit her bottom lip, her mind still in the clouds. Sleep had not returned her to her old nature, but she was none the wiser to the illness infecting her thoughts. What she did notice was that she could understand the words forming on his lips. She could make sense of the sentences he put together, albeit, slower than usual. After several seconds, her mind would process what was said.

 

“I do not want to go back there,” Mera said.

 

Grabbing her hard by the arm, he took her wrists and chained them. He complimented her wrists by doing the same to her ankles, “you do not get a choice, now do you? Prisoner. Remember?”

 

“Why?” Her eyes started to fill with tears, “why did Arthur do this?”

 

“See sleep didn’t make you any less crazy. Never does,” he pushed her out the cell and lead her back towards the torture chamber.

 

She swallowed, seeing the angry doors wishing to swallow her whole. Mera tried to slow in steps, “not in there. I don’t like it!”

 

“Confess and you won’t go in there.”

 

“Confess to what? I didn’t mean to make Arthur cross.”

 

“What is your fixation with him, Lady?”

 

She stared at him dumbfounded. He pushed her into the torture chamber in response.

 

Mera fell to the ground, landing by familiar heavy boots. She was on all fours, her hands breaking the fall, causing her to cry out with the pressure on her bad one. She put her weight on her knees, holding herself up, but staring down at the ground as her hand throbbed. She did not want to see Arthur’s less than friendly face looking down at her. She couldn’t bear the sight.

 

“She still doesn’t got a clue why she’s here. Or so she says? And she’s upset about you being cross  with her,” The Alligator said, “so much for her sleep making her anymore sound.”

 

“Can she understand what you’re saying?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yeah,” The Alligator shrugged.

 

“Then she’s more sound,” Arthur stated before kneeling down by Mera. He placed his fingers gently under Mera’ chin, lifting her head, so that she would greet his eyes.

 

When Mera looked his way, she saw him staring. His eyes seemed to be softer, and she daresay, he looked to be the old Arthur. She wanted to smile, but there was a stronger voice in the back of her head. A voice within her, as though she shared her soul with another. It told her to be on guard.

 

“Is it true?” Arthur said almost gently, “do you not wish for me to be cross with you?”

 

Slowly, Mera nodded.

 

“There is a simple solution.”

 

“There is?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And then it’ll be like old times?”

 

Arthur noted the glazed look in her eyes. He knew she wasn’t one hundred percent. That was good. She didn’t need to be. In fact, it was better that she wasn’t, “yes,” he said, unsure of what she was talking about, but the details were neither here nor there.

 

“What do I have to do?” Mera bit her bottom lip.

 

“Confess,” he said.

 

“What did I do wrong?”

 

Arthur sighed, “you’re a witch. And you need to be punished.”

 

Mera tilted her head to the side, “you have powers.”

 

            Mera saw his expression shift quickly. The man who was always gentle with her was instantly banished. The cold aggressor took his place. Sharply, he slapped her face. Mera sucked back a breath, but could not stave off the tears that finally were jarred out of her again.

 

            “Why?” She cried. “Why are you treating me like this? You are not the man I thought you were!”

 

            He reached back and slapped her again as she sobbed in confusion.

 

            Arthur stood up, looming over her. He was too angry to speak. His mouth tried to form words, but nothing would occur. The dangers she had done, accusing him of witchcraft in front of the others could not be let go. He needed to deal with her immediately. Grabbing her by the arm, he forced her up. When he was able to speak, his voice shook with anger and disgust, “you dare accuse me of witchcraft!”

 

            “No,” she said, even though it was sort of true. She knew he was mad. She felt so small in comparison to him. The world had no form. The only thing that had form was him and now she could not hold onto his strong presence. She was falling, deeper and deeper into nothingness. Maybe, just maybe, if he calmed down she could figure out a way to reach him.

 

            “You dare accuse me!”

 

            “No!” She bellowed.

 

            “You say it! You say what you meant!”

 

            “I don’t know! I don’t understand what is happening! I don’t know why you are mad at me! You aren’t supposed to hurt me! You aren’t!”

 

            “STOP!” He screamed in her face.

 

            Shaking like a scared child, she bit her bottom lip to quiet herself, but she could not silence the tears.

 

            “Do not behave as though I know you! I do not fall prey to the devil’s games, but you do! It has toyed with your mind and made you believe in things that are not real by way of weakening you. To feed on you. And, perhaps, to try and get to me. But rest assured, we are _nothing_ , Mera!”

 

            Mera stared up at him shocked. But mostly hurt.

 

            “I do not love you!” He hollered, echoing her words from the night before, “I was never supposed to love you. I never have loved you. I never could love something like you!”

 

            Her lips trembled, new hot tears spilling down her face. Old memories of him holding her nauseated her mind. Her safe space was gone and now she felt hollow. No longer wishing to stand nor breathe, this world of nothingness swallowed her whole.

 

            “Do yourself a favor and confess. It is the only way to free you from the devil’s hand!”

 

            Mera almost felt the words fall past her lips. She almost felt herself say what he wished. Yet, something within her resisted the urge. As though someone else continued to live there, a gut reaction reminding her to hold her tongue.

 

            She shook her head.

 

            “Get her up on the rack,” Arthur sighed.

 

            “Do I gotta be here for this,” The Alligator asked.

 

            Arthur looked over his shoulder, “you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

 

            “I don’t know. I just don’t like the sound of bones snapping. Can’t explain it. I can handle just about anything else, but that…always gets me feeling ill.”

 

            Arthur shook his head, “I don’t care. Leave. I don’t need you here.”

 

            Nodding, The Alligator hurried out.

 

            Arthur turned, looking back to Mera, and suddenly her eyes were not glazed over anymore. He stared puzzled, for he couldn’t know, somewhere out there, another version of himself had just delivered another round of toxin to Mera. The opposite effect happened than the last time the true Arthur gave her, her medicine. Her mind cleared up instantly, but suddenly she felt sicker in the stomach, her face was clammy, and her bones had a dull fire to them.

 

            “The devil has left you?” Arthur said.

 

            “I’m looking at him,” Mera sassed. She remembered it all. How scared she had been, how lost, how hollow. If she had time to really process how different she had been, how out of sorts she had existed, she would have been rocked by the disease’s tricky hand. Her illness could have gotten her killed. Somehow, someway, she had managed to operate on primal instinct and survive. There was not time process. She had a game to play.

 

            Her first move, remembering that he was _not_ Arthur Curry.

 

“My throne?” she gestured towards the rack, now having a name for the contraption in the middle of the room. She waddled her sore body towards it without requiring force. What was the point? Whatever was going to happen would happen. At least she could walk with some dignity. The Bald Man helped to lay her down upon the structure and she found herself hissing in pain from the weight on her back’s lashes.

 

“It’s about to hurt a whole lot more, Little Girl,” the Bald Man said as he strapped her down.

 

Mera looked around. She wasn’t familiar with these practices. She was not of the land.  A common theme, it seemed, but she did not know what was happening. She only knew the results would, not only be dire, but likely worse than what she had experienced so far. She stared around wildly, quietly panicking as her new reality set in.

 

A soft hand was placed on her shoulder.

 

Mera stared up in the eyes of Arthur. Suddenly, it was him. Suddenly, he wasn’t so cruel.

 

“I know you’re scared. I would be terrified if I were you,” he appeared kinder. He believed he was being kinder, now knowing the devil was gone from her. He was solely dealing with a woman and not a trickster, “I take no pleasure doing this. Even less from a lady. It does not need to happen. All you have to do is confess. Confess and I will let you up.”

 

Mera smirked, but he was not kind, was he? Not if he could ever do such a thing.

 

“What does this do?” She asked.

 

Arthur snorted, “would you like me to show you?”

 

“I would like you to tell me. Perhaps, it will sway me to do as you please.”

 

“Someone has sheltered you greatly if you have not heard,” Arthur said. He paused, “it stretches you. Slowly. Until your limbs dislocate. Sometimes they tear if you hold out on confession that long. You will likely be crippled for life if such a thing happens...”

 

Mera swallowed. No one could withstand that, mind or body. If they did, somehow, how would they be harmed next?

 

“Do you ever wind up believing a person?” Mera asked. “If someone says they are innocent and you put them through all these, we shall call them, tests…is there one they pass that ever causes you to say that, perhaps, they tell the truth.”

 

Arthur patted her cheek condescendingly, “just like a witch to try and use the devil’s logic to get into our heads. As I said before, I do not fall prey to the devil.”

 

Mera closed her eyes, a single tear falling down her face. She would die from these trials. She could see why. The healthiest of people couldn’t withstand them. Her physical body, wherever her real Arthur was, could not withstand all of this. At least, maybe, she would have a chance of surviving if the torture was stopped. Perhaps then she could break out and run before the death penalty was carried out.

 

On the rack, there was no hope.

 

“Do you confess?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yes,” Mera hated herself in that moment for saying it. For giving in, “I confess.”

 

Arthur looked surprised.

 

Mera felt her stomach sink.

 

What if she had just failed the trial after all? What if she was meant to withstand everything thrown at her even when, in reality, her physical body could not?

 

Worse, what if the whole thing had been rigged?


	14. Chapter 14

The door to the dungeon was thrown closed with a heavy thud. Mera landed just as heavily on the cement floor. She was still here. Still was still in this strange world. Still part of this odd trial. Her confession was not the be all and end all of the trial, it would seem. So, what was the point? Assuming there was a point…

 

Arthur was here. It could not be a coincidence.

 

Yet, she would likely not see him again until her execution.

 

“You confessed, I see.”

 

Looking up, Mera saw the young man with the alligator smile walk in front of the cell bars.

 

“Smart choice,” he said, biting into an apple. He then proceeded to chew with his mouth full, “They never take no for an answer.”

 

“Is it true?” Mera asked.

 

“Is what true?”

 

“You couldn’t stand the rack, so you left?”

 

“Nah. I don’t care,” he took another bite of his apple. “I just wanted some ale. Been dry too long thanks to you.”

 

She stared at him. What was his purpose? What were any of these people’s purpose? They were all so elaborate, as if this were real. As if this world had happened. The first trial was a clear trial. Get out of the well without her power. This trial. It was another world. With flesh and blood people. Though, apparently the well had been part of this world too. The incident had led her to be ‘arrested.’ But, why?

 

“You look bothered?” He said, taking her out of her thoughts.

 

“How is one supposed to look after being tortured and sentenced to burn?”

 

“Depends on the person. Some look terrified. Some cry. Some accept it with a weird grace that no one is gonna care much about when they’re gone. If it were me, I’d be kicking up the biggest fuss all the way up to the fire.” He paused, “but you. You look more puzzled. Like someone told you a riddle you can’t figure out.”

 

“Someone did,” she muttered.

 

“Oh, yeah? Tell it to me. I’m great with riddles.”

 

She sighed, “I’m trying to figure out if you’re real or not.”

 

“That don’t sound like a riddle. That sounds crazy. Maybe you do belong in the madhouse.”

 

“I might after all of this.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry none. Your brain melts too,” he gripped the bars and laughed, the apple core falling from his hand and rolling to her side.

 

Mera stared at him, her gaze narrowing in frustration, “is this what you normally do? Taunt the prisoners before their executions.”

 

“Only the pretty ones.”

 

Mera was truly getting fed up with this sexism. Little Lady. Little Girl. Now someone’s personal view of prettiness equated harassment.

 

“This is what it feels like to be powerless…” she said under her breath.

 

“Powerless. Yeah. I know a thing or two about that-“ The Alligator started to rattle off in the background.

 

His voice was drowned out by Mera’s thoughts.

 

Powerless!

 

That’s what this whole trial has been about. Taking her power. First her hydrokensis. Second, physical strength. Okay. So…where did that put Arthur into all of this? Why was he suddenly a character in this poorly written play?

 

“He has all the power. He’s responsible for putting me here…” she spoke quietly to herself.

 

“What are you saying over there? I can’t hear you. Speak up,” The Alligator ordered.

 

Forcing herself up quicker than her body cared for, she gripped the bars, “get Arthur here now!”

 

“What for?”

 

“That is between me and him!”

 

“Lady, he doesn’t need to talk to you no more. You confessed!”

 

“Well, I am part of a coven, you see. I can name more witches. If I am going down then they are going down with me,” she said, thinking quick.

 

“Fine then. Suppose he’d wanna hear about that.”

 

Mera watched The Alligator wander away as she took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do. The question was…how was she going to bring herself to do it?

 

***

 

“I was told you have names for me.”

 

Propped up against the hard cell wall, Mera looked up when she saw the guard open the cell door. Stepping inside, the guard took her hands harshly and immediately cuffed them with a heavy chain. The chains were heavy, dragging to the floor. Once the guard turned and left Arthur stood before her with expectant eyes. He wasn’t Arthur. She needed to remind herself of this fact. He only resembled him in features, but not in words. Not in actions. Her Arthur would never throw her in a cell. He would never lay a hand on her. He would never sign her life away.

 

All that stood before her was a metaphor.

 

The trouble was, she was face to face with a man who was suddenly much stronger than she. There was no reasonable way she could foresee succeeding in her plans. It appeared, ‘it’s the thought that counts,’ was not enough for the trial Gods because she was still within this cell. So, how could she possibly fulfill her plan. Pushing herself up so she could stand, the chain scraped against the cement floor. That heavy chain…

 

“I’m waiting,” he said.

 

Mera gazed up at him, “yes. The names. I don’t suppose if I give them to you, you will commute my sentence?”

 

Arthur looked at her and he actually appeared sorry.

 

That made this harder. That made it look like _her_ Arthur.

 

“Is that the only way you will give me the names?” He asked. “Because I cannot play games. If you are to withhold the names now, I will have no other choice but to withhold communion. Your spirit will not be forgiven and will be damned to hell.”

 

Mera tilted her head to the side. Communion…what? Oh. Wait. She was remembering something she had seen on the Story Box about this word. It was a program taking place in the olden days. Church. One God. Communion was a ritual or something of the sort. This was supposed to mean much to her, she supposed. At least, in this trial. Clearly, due to this fact, he wouldn’t barter with her. Telling him she worried not over communion would only make him angry. It wouldn’t change her fate here, but if anything, seal it. After all, he had his ‘morals’ as he called them. He had to abide by both the law and religion. Both demanded her death.

 

It was worth a shot to quickly explore it. if she got her sentence commuted, maybe that would end the trial. A more peaceful way to wake back up in her world.

 

Like the laws in this world, the trial seemed to be incredibly cut and dry. There was only one right answer. Any wrong moves and she was done for.

 

She shook her head, “of course not. I am not playing a game. I seek to do what is right. Perhaps, I did not do so in my life. Surely, it means something to do it in my death.”

 

He nodded, again, with sorrow, “the devil has truly left you, it would seem. He knows he has lost. I only wish you had never done his bidding in the first place.” Arthur cleared his throat, “but, you are right. It _always_ means a great deal to do the right thing. It is never too late to save one’s soul.”

 

It was so strange to Mera, hearing Arthur Curry speak with sophistication. She thanked the _Gods_ that he did because it jarred her out of getting lost in those sorry eyes of his. The eyes that actually looked like her Arthur. But Arthur would never speak so eloquently. The temper he had shown back in the Torture Chamber had certainly been a side to him she had seen, though it was towards murderers. This faux sophistication he carried himself with was someone else. The trial was trying to compliment the environment, surely, but they had made a mistake.  Arthur, in this world, would never rise to prestige. He was too much of an individual. This world, from what she had gathered, was either conforming or death.

 

Still, it helped her, even if the Trial Gods hadn’t meant for it to. She was likely supposed to simply be begging him to remember her. She wondered how many people before her had fallen into that classic trap. But Mera…Mera wasn’t the begging kind.

 

Taking a breath, Mera wondered how she was going to do this. She needed to get him to turn away from her. It couldn’t be when he left the cell because the Guard would be there to interfere.

 

“So, what are the names?”

 

Right. Names. She didn’t know names. Generic names might work, but for all she knew she was in some alternate universe. What if she named people who actually existed and they died once she left here? Or maybe, she was exhausted, beaten, and overthinking everything because she was mildly out of her mind. She had to be desperate and out of her mind to attempt what she would attempt next.

 

            “The names are of people who are married to important members of the town,” she said, “so you must understand it is hard for me to say. I fear the repercussions that will occur after.”

 

            She started to walk around him, looking off as though she were simply pacing from a difficult conundrum.

 

            He followed her with his eyes, “I understand,” he said, “though the town may hurt at first, it is important to cleanse anywhere of toxins. A healthy town cannot grow if there are weeds in the soil. Sometimes, we must start anew.”

 

            “You are right,” Mera sighed.

 

            Before Arthur had time to react, Mera lunged at him. She climbed up on him as though she were scaling a mountain. She got the long chain of her cuffs over his head, and she wrapped it quickly around his neck, again and again, pulling and suffocating him. She screamed, her busted hand taking a hit, but she forced it to work through the pain. She forced what parts of it, that could move, to move. She need all her weight behind her. Her ribs cried to her, but she knew for sure now they weren’t broken, but bruised. A risk she had taken, but she had not gone tumbling down.

 

            Arthur thrashed. A woman inexperienced in fighting he easily could have flung off. Not Mera. She had her legs locked around him. Adrenaline pumping through her head was the only explanation that she could use core strength, that she didn’t have in this world, to keep her beaten back straight while choking the life out of him. He tried to call out, his face turning purple, but no sound could come. Heavily, he fell to his knees, making it easier for her to finish the job as she used the rest of her strength to end his life.

 

            Once dead, her legs crumbled beneath her. The chain tied around his neck, tethering her to the dead man whose face she feared would haunt her dreams. She felt her mouth open slightly, a cry sounding out.

 

            It wasn’t Arthur. He was _not_ Arthur.

 

            When was this trial going to end!

 

            “Why am I still here?” She hollered.

 

            The Guard came, fumbling to find the keys to get to the dead man laying by his killer.

 

            The cell door opened and he rushed it, shoving her back to the ground. She was flat on her stomach, arms stretched out in front of her, still attached to the man who dare called himself Arthur Curry.

 

            The inside of the cell stood solid. The trial proceeded until the bitter end.

 

A primal scream ripped through her lungs and out her mouth. It did not stop until the day the guards came, and took her to the stake, where screamed one final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you'll be wanting me to update this pretty quickly...)


	15. Chapter 15

            The smell of burning flesh was trapped in Mera’s nose. Her mouth gasped open as dusty air filled her lungs. For a terrifying moment, she thought it was her own ash. The room came into focus, not melting, but solid. Arthur’s form was at her side, hand clutching her’s, and he found himself smiling when she awoke.

 

            Arthur knew she had won.

 

            The happy sentiment was not shared.

 

            Kicking back, trying to get away from him, Mera yelled in pain. Legs scorched from the well trial, she could barely wiggle away as she yanked her good hand out of his grasp. Arthur looked both alarmed and puzzled, but mostly alarmed.

 

            “Mera. Hey. Hey. You’re back. You’re okay now,” Arthur spoke gently.

 

            Carefully, as if approaching a scared dog, he put his hand out to touch her cheek softly. Mera whipped her head away in response causing Arthur to back up. He stood away from the bed, giving her room to breathe. Mera looked around the room wildly, using her hand to push herself up so she was sitting on the bed. The action caused her great pain as he remembered the lash marks on her back. Mera could very much feel the bruising from where one of her interrogators had kicked her repeatedly.

 

            “What the hell did you do?” Arthur turned to Knowledge.

 

            Knowledge put up a calming hand, “give her a minute. Re-acclimating can be a confusing, and albeit, a painful process.”

 

            Biting her bottom lip hard, Mera stared down at the burns on her legs. She looked to her arms, but they did not have the same marks. She should have been burnt all over. In fact, she should not be aware that was not burnt all over. She was very much dead. They had killed her mercilessly and in one of the worst ways she could imagine possible. And _he. He_ should be dead. She glared at him.

 

            Arthur lifted his brows, “painful process for who exactly?”

 

            Knowledge offered a half amused shrug.

 

            “I killed you,” Mera glared, “what is this?”

 

            Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but his jaw was left hanging. He shifted his stance for a moment, clutching his trident in confusion. He pulled at his beard with his other hand, “shit, Girl. Why’d you want to go and do a thing like that?”

            Mera blinked several times. The wheels in her mind turning as he spoke differently. Rather, he spoke, correctly…His sort of correctly. His Arthur speak, “Arthur?”

 

            He gave a ‘duh,’ kind of nod, “do I look like someone else?” He tilted his head, “who’d you kill? Kinda wish I saw that. Sounds hot.”

 

            Knowledge rolled his eyes, “it was all part of the trial. Standard procedure when you have a warrior participating.”

 

            Mera stared around the room, looking down at the bed. It was coming back to her. Where she had been before the trial. This funny little room on this musty little bed, “I’m. Back,” she said carefully.

 

            Taking a cautious step forward, Arthur moved to the bed. When she didn’t flinch away from him this time, he sat on the edge beside her, “you won.”

 

            Mera’s eyes lit up and not in the good way. He bent back just a little bit to get out of her way in case she unleashed that fury bubbling beneath the surface. She was in no condition to be fighting, but she was mustering an energy like he had never seen.

 

            “You burned me!” Mera yelled at Knowledge.

 

            “You two really do belong together. You both do not listen. I do not make the trials. I simply enforce the rules,” Knowledge said. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you went through, but it is the only way for the trial to be completed.”

 

            Mera wanted to jump up and attack this man. In fact, she downright started to until Arthur caught both of her arms, keeping her in place. She yelled out against her wounds, but they weren’t stopping her any. It was only his body working as shield that kept her from completely lunging across the room.

 

“Calm down. Calm down,” Arthur coaxed her.

 

            “I won’t! You were not there!” She hollered, unaware that she was shaking. She didn’t cry. She was too angry to cry. Too angry to feel the terror that would be imprinted in her mind for many years to come. And she could still smell it. She could still smell herself burning.

 

            She could still see it. She could see what it looked like to be dragged from your cell. The lack of dignity to be walked to your death. The horror of being hoisted up onto a stake.

 

She could feel it…what it would feel like if she choked the life out of the man she loved. It wasn’t him. That Arthur hardly even acted like himself, but still…she knew what it would look like.

 

            In her eyes, for a split second, Arthur could see how hollow she had become.

 

            “What the hell was this trial?” He looked over his shoulder at Knowledge.

 

            “You two can discuss it later. We have prices to discuss,” Knowledge answered.

 

            “S-s-screw your prices!” Mera’s voice quivered, but was no less strong, “I want answers. If I passed. If I figured it out. Why? Why would you do that?”

 

            Knowledge started to protest, but Mera interjected with aggravation, “or those Gods. Or whoever! Why would they burn me?”

 

            Arthur wanted to tighten his hold on her, more out of comfort than restraint, but her body couldn’t take too much roughness. Already sick, she was practically broken at every angle. The excitement pouring out of her needed to be quelled, but he knew there was no stopping this train. And damn if he didn’t want answers too. He hadn’t been there, but the few pieces she had given him sounded nothing short of, well, damn evil if you asked him.

 

            “It’s purification,” Knowledge said. “I’m sorry. These are ancient ways. It isn’t enough for you to figure out individuality.”

           

            “Individuality? Sounds trippy,” Arthur said.

 

            “They stripped me of my power. Made it my enemy. Then took my strength in a strange, barbaric setting where they accused me of witchcraft. I had only my own wits to salvage my life. And even that was robbed of me due to my illness. Half the time, I wasn’t even myself! Then…there was you,” she looked up at Arthur. “A very annoying version of yourself with a superiority complex.”

 

            “Sounds just like me,” Arthur quipped.

 

            “You held all the power over me. Power that I lost. Power I had to get it back.”

 

            “Oh, killing me. Glad it didn’t stop you. No. Really. Don’t hold back, Babe.”

 

            Mera gave him a hard look.

 

            “Joke. Go on.”

 

            “And after all of this…they still burned me at the stake,” her hard look transferred over to Knowledge.

 

            Mera couldn’t digest it. Everything she had been through, everything she had felt, there were no words. You see films were people are being dragged to their death. You hear news stories about capital punishment. Certainly, she had seen first-hand people scarified to The Trench. You wonder…how does it feel leading up to your death? And a death so ominous. One so torturous.

 

            Mera, left alone in her cell after killing ‘Arthur,’ well…she had gone numb. Sitting on the ground, legs spread out in front of her, she didn’t bother with food nor water. She didn’t bother with idle conversation The Alligator bored her with. She had given up. The trial had won. Or so she had thought. And she wished…Oh she wished!... She could say she had walked to her death with dignity, but she had been pushed along the way. She had crumbled to her knees seeing the scaffold. She had cried as strange faces booed her and hollered for them to “burn the witch.” And right now…

 

            Right now, she felt numb all over again. Her head slumped against Arthur’s side, his arms still around her, holding her closer now instead of holding her back. The fight had gone out of her. Arthur felt it leave. He assumed the seriousness of her wounds was finally catching up with her. They were nothing in comparison to the space taken up in her mind.

 

            “Why witch trials?” Arthur looked confused.

 

            “Most people don’t get past the first trial. Once they do, they themselves, stripped to their core of who they are, go on trial. Maybe the Gods have a sense of humor. She’s a witch, so to speak. A sea witch, some might say. She is taking a trial. Witch trial. Besides, it ends in fire. Which,” he focused on Mera, “I’m sorry to say, but in order for you to be granted the wisdom of the Gods, you need to go through the purification ritual. Cleansed by fire, so your soul can be washed and worthy.”

 

            She wanted to scream. No words. No threats. She wanted to scream, but she was feeling exhausted. She deepened her forehead into Arthur further, “all of that and it is not even the price. It does not even guarantee I can be saved. Yet, they purify me when they do not save my soul themselves.”

 

            “You knew this going in,” Knowledge reminded her, “but I suppose most walk into these trials with more pride than they leave with.”

 

            Mera looked up and glared, but it was Arthur who barked at Knowledge, “shut up now. Or I’ll make you shut up.”

 

            “Fine. Fine. Can we discuss price now?”

           

            “A price. Right,” Arthur wouldn’t throw a fit that the state Mera was in should be price enough. It wouldn’t work. They’d just be talking in circles at this point and there was no time to waste. They knew what they signed up for, as shady and rigged against them as it was. “What’s your price?”

 

            “We’ll get to me. What knowledge do you seek?”

 

            “The Underground City. I need the location.”

 

            Knowledge nodded his head, “and I can get you the map from Atlantis to the gates of the buried world. If you truly believe entrance is wise.”

 

            “I don’t got a choice,” Arthur’s hands gently caressed Mera’s arms, soothingly.

 

            “The Underground City is a graveyard now, but it once was a place which held great power. Few held prestige. Most were enslaved by those at the very top. It is a hotspot for activity.”

 

            “You trying to tell me it’s haunted?”

 

            “Would that be so difficult to believe? Given what you have seen here today? Given that you live in a magical kingdom beneath the water?”

 

            “Nah. Just. Ghost. Seems kinda childish that you’d think that could scare me off.”

 

            Knowledge’s face intensified, “do not mock the dead, Arthur Curry. It is the things we do not see coming, which do the most harm.”

 

            Arthur gave a slow nod, “cool. The map?”

 

            Knowledge reached into the nightstand beside the bed and pulled it out, “another to add to your collection.” He paused, “I warn you. The Guardians will sense your ambition to find the City. They will begin to awaken. Little by little. They will not want you entering their city. They will do what needs to be done to keep you out. It is their job no matter how much time passes. No matter if there is a kingdom and ruler left to protract. It’s their only nature.”

 

            “So, I should go now? Before they can stop me.”

 

            “The City is dangerous. The Guardians are dangerous. I cannot tell you how to approach either.”

 

            Of course, one piece of knowledge, nothing more, “I guess that means you won’t tell me why Mera is the target in all of this.”

 

            “You guess correctly.”

 

            Arthur went to take the map from Knowledge’s hand, but then stopped mid-way, “what’s your price?”

 

            “My price is yet to come. But I will let you know.”

 

            Arthur stood up, Mera slightly slumping against his side, supported by his leg as he stood. Without giving it a thought, Arthur’s arm came down to hold her in place, so she didn’t need to use her energy and muscles to rest rested against his thigh.

 

            “No. No. No,” Arthur shook his head, “that ain’t how this works, Brother. I don’t agree to deals in the dark. You tell me what you want or we’re walking.”

 

            Knowledge smiled politely, “I’m afraid you misunderstand. You have already made the deal.”

 

            “Excuse me?”

 

            “When you walked in here. The moment you step foot inside this sacred place you are bound to give me what I want.”

 

            “Like hell I am!” Arthur growled.

 

            “I’m sorry, there is no going back. Unless you wish to meet the others who tried to go back on their deals. You passed them along the way. I know you remember. You’ve mentioned them before.”

 

            Arthur shook his head, “you can try all you want, but you can’t take me. Not on your life.”

 

            Knowledge bent down slightly, looking at Mera who’s eyes were half closed, “hi, there.”

 

            Mera slightly looked at him before closing her eyes completely.

 

            Knowledge straightened up, “finally, she’s crashing. She’s a spitfire, that one. Gotta give it to her. Most of them come out of it unconscious.”

 

            “Leave her out of this!” Arthur growled.

 

            “’fraid I can’t. She’s so precious to you. It’s sweet. Truly,” Knowledge smiled pleasantly, “and as strong as she is, I am willing to be right about now I could take her.”

 

            Arthur’s eyes froze over, he lifted his trident up, bringing it down hard. Knowledge spun, lifting his scepter up, catching the trident halfway in the air.

 

            “Let me guess, I will have to get through you first? The truth is,” Knowledge held his scepter against Arthur’s, both stuck in a deadlock, “none of this is truly necessary. The deal is already in action.”

 

            “What is it?” Arthur pushed against his trident, seeing Knowledge as he began to lose his footing.

 

            “It will be revealed in time.”

 

            Arthur continued to push against the scepter, but Knowledge seemed to have doubled his strength, able to equally push back.

 

“Kill me and the information on the map disappears. Mera dies.”

 

“I can’t keep a deal when I don’t know what it is. For all I know you’re killing thousands of people.”

 

Knowledge smiled, his voice aggravatingly casual, “no, it is nothing like that. No one is dying. No cities are crumbling. Diseases are not being spread. The deal is not in death.”

 

“You could be lying,” Arthur said.

 

“Actually. I can’t be. Misleading you would make the deal null and void,” Knowledge rolled his eyes, “lawyers. I tell you. They’ve got their hands in everything.”

 

“The fact that you can’t tell me, tells me something itself.”

 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

 

“That I’m not gonna like whatever it is.”

 

“It’s compromise. Everyone leaves happily, unhappy. Besides, you can’t kill me anyway. Gods,” he pointed towards floor, “I’m protected.”

 

“Aren’t you pointing the wrong way?”

 

“No.”

 

“I welcome you try and fight me, but that’s what happened to your skeleton buddies out there. Some of them were deities too…You can ask around. Come back to kill me if you find out I’m lying. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been here since the Romans.”

 

“There isn’t information on you for me to ask around about,” Arthur said.

 

“You’re not going to kill me. You want to save Mera. Stop lying to yourself. You know you can’t bring yourself to take me down at the expense of her. I _know_ this.”

 

Arthur stood there for a second longer, his grip tightening on the trident. Sighing, his shoulder relaxed as he freed the man from his trident’s threat.

 

Knowledge took a step back, swinging his scepter in his hand like he was a cowboy twirling a gun. Placing the scepter to his side, he put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, “buck up, King Arthur. Not all is lost. You’re saving your girl. And what a future she has in store for her…”


	16. Chapter 16

            The bed was bigger. Mera noted this when she opened her eyes. Confused, she gazed around the room expecting to see Arthur and Knowledge continuing to go at it. Instead, she saw the darkness of her watery Atlantean bedroom. She had only closed her eyes for a second. At least, she swore it had only been a second. Gazing down at herself, she saw she was in a light purple nightgown. Seaweed bandages covered her hot legs. She could feel the same weight upon her throbbing back.

 

            Gazing around her bedroom, her mind began to muddle. How long had she been alone? Alone. Suddenly, her bedroom did not feel like safety. It felt like a coffin. Where was Arthur? He must have gotten out of the catacombs or she would not be here. But why was she alone? She found herself clutching her blankets like a scared child. She _wanted_ Arthur.

 

            Swinging her legs over the bed, she had to put a hand atop the mattress when her weak limbs threatened to crumble. Fire shot up through her muscles and she gritted her teeth. The pain was certainly a warning she needed to stay off her feet, but Mera ignored their plea. She _wanted_ Arthur.

 

            Pushing herself away from the bed, like a baby learning their first steps, her body forced itself to find balance. Ungracious steps carried her towards the door. The world felt so large to her now. As if the room were endless on both sides of herself, spreading out wider and wider as she walked forward. Through her dizzy vision, her hand found the door knob and she pushed her way towards freedom.

 

            “Queen Mera, you’re awake,” a voice came to her left.

 

            The guard watched as a very ‘out-of-it” Mera stumbled into the hallway. She was hunched over, barely able to hold her own weight. When she gazed up at him, she seemed to look past him, as though he were miles away. Her eyes mildly unfocused, she somewhat found his gaze. Her response, only a simple nod.

 

            The guard on the right took initiative and stepped forward, very gently reaching out to balance their Queen, “you shouldn’t be up.”

 

            Mera’s answer didn’t come right away. It took a second to respond, as if there was a time delay between what they were saying and when she would receive their communication, “no, I am okay. I must see Arthur.”

 

            “Let’s get you back to bed, my Queen. I will fetch Arthur for you,” the Guard on the left offered.

 

            Patiently, they waited for her to process his words. Several seconds later and she shook her head, “no, I must find him myself. It’s been too long.”

 

            The guards exchanged glances, unsure of what that meant. Then again, with the way she was acting, it was quite apparent her mind was not heavily attached to this reality.

 

            The Guard who had a light grip on Mera simply nodded at his partner that all was okay, “I’ve got her.” He looked towards Mera, “I’ll accompany you to Arthur. I know where he is, after all.”

 

            Taking in the information, Mera gave a nod, finding this deal acceptable.

 

            Very slowly, they moved through the castle together.

 

***

           

“Mera isn’t strong enough to go there,” Arthur said, standing in the com-room. He was accompanied by several members of his team, trusted advisors and military leaders. “I should have just brought her to a Surface Doctor. It’d have been quicker.”

 

“You had no choice but to bring her here,” Vulko stated, “you could not bring her to a Surface Doctor to treat her wounds. The second they heard she was suffering an ancient water disease they would have had her quarantined.”

 

Murk, who had served his brother before Arthur, now loyally served Arthur. He was traditional. Living and breathing archaic law. Needless to say, a half water, half land dweller, was not his ideal king. Still, Arthur Curry was King and for this Murk would serve Arthur as his military leader to the best of his abilities. And Murk’s response to this exchange? A big gruff.

 

“Yeah. Yeah. We know, Murk. You hate the Surface Dwellers. It’s noted and very helpful,” Arthur managed to say without attaching an eye roll. “Anyway…she hasn’t woken up. It’s been two days.”

 

“She’s in a deep sleep. She’s healing. She will awaken in due time. Until then, we can plan our approach for the Underground City,” Vulko said.

 

“Doc says the disease is progressing. It’s gonna get to the point soon that the tonic won’t work. We can spare her a few days to heal up, but after that…we gotta move. Of course, we there’s nothing known about the layout of this Underground City.”

 

“And the guardians are awakening. They will attack you and the Queen to thwart any attempts to breach their city,” Murk pointed out, “There isn’t time to wait for her to heal. There isn’t time to wait for her to wake up. We need to move and we need to move fast.”

 

            “No, it’s too dangerous. We gotta send a team in first to scope the place out. We need some idea of what this city looks like before we just dive in there,” Arthur said. “Hell, we need to know the environment around the city before we just go in. It could be toxic. Hell, that Knowledge freak, it could be a trap.”

 

            “His reputation-“

 

            Arthur cut Vulko off, “if you had been there, you wouldn’t care what his reputation is because it sure as hell doesn’t proceed him. You were damn right about his power coming from a dark place. That’s all any of us need to know.”

 

            “He cannot lie,” Vulko said, “it will breach the contract and whatever deal he wants from you and Mera, it won’t be able to happen.”

 

            “Sure. He can’t lie. Doesn’t mean he won’…withhold information…” Arthur’s attention fell towards the doorway, his voice trailing off as a familiar flow of red hair swooshed through the water and into his presence.

 

            “She insisted on seeing you,” the guard guiding Mera explained at once.

 

            Arthur stepped forward, extending his arm, so he could take Mera’s hand. He was relieved to see her awake. It’d be a lie to say otherwise. Arthur could also see the pain and work it took for his Queen to be up and about, “Mera, why aren’t you in bed? You should be resting.”

 

She smiled as his fuzzy form came into her view. Not only did she take his hand, but she immediately curled up into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder.

 

            It wasn’t like her to be vulnerable so openly. With him, when they were alone, her walls mostly came down. It was usually accompanied by some sass, but even still, she could be vulnerable. Never in front of other people. Certainly not the people she led. The people who already judged her for her non-Atlantean blood and her traitorous ways, turning her back on Orm for him. Each day, she was getting less and less like herself and for longer periods of time. All he could do was put his other arm around her and hold her close.

 

            “Let’s get you back to bed,” he spoke softly.

 

***

 

Swimming down the hallway was a slow process. If he could have, he would have picked her up and simply carried her to her bed. Yet, she had refused him. He wished he could say it was a bit of her old self coming through. A warrior refusing to be anything else despite it being in their best interest. Instead, her gaze simply would drift away from his when he would make suggestions. And, if he tried to pick her up, it would seem to take her by surprise.

 

            Scaring her.

 

            And that scared him.

 

            She wasn’t scared of anything. Not his Mera. She had turned her back on her own nation to do what was right for Atlantis. She had made herself an outcast because of her ‘untrustworthy’ actions. Yet, she was scared of unexpected movements. She was scared of not being by his side when she was never one to be co-dependent.

 

            _Jesus. What has this disease done to her._

Stripped her down of who she was and all that was left…was a vessel…a hurt, fragile vessel. If she were herself, if she’d had sensed he had even _thought_ the word fragile about her, he’d be a few parts short. Now...suddenly she was looking around the Atlantis hallway with a childlike gleam in her eye. Fascinated by all the colors. The water. Even the jellyfish that would float by the windows. At one point, she had even pointed and giggled. Arthur had simply commented, “you like that, do you?” She nodded happily and he could only smile; otherwise, he would have cried.

 

            “You didn’t want to rest in your bed?” He asked gently as they turned down a corridor. There were no windows for her to gawk out of in this section, so her focus was suddenly only on him.

 

            “I didn’t know where you were,” she responded after several seconds.

 

            “I was working to make you better.”

 

            As much as they loved each other, their jobs took them away from each other. It was unfortunate, but it happened on more occasions than either liked. They both had learned to compartmentalize it. But not this Mera. This Mera…

 

            _This Mera giggles at jellyfish._

_Because she’s dying._

_And her mind is going first._

He remembered her screaming. Her pleading for him to understand. They were taking her. Damnit, she had been right. With as much strength as he could wield without hurting her, he held her close to him. She cooed gently in response, enjoying his strong hug.

 

            Reaching their bedroom, he went inside. He walked her gently across the room before helping her back into bed. With care, he got the covers tucked all around her nice and tight as she rested against the pillow. Smoothing out her hair, he smiled down at her innocent gaze. Normally, she’d pretend to be this innocent when she was up to something. Mera was rarely innocent. If she was, she was stuffing her mouth with roses or something ridiculous like that, and that kind of innocence wasn’t on purpose. But right now, right now she truly was as innocent as she seemed, “I’m almost done and I can hang with you then. Try and get some sleep. I know you slept for awhile, but…but it’ll do you good.”

 

            Mera grabbed his hand as she started to leave her.

 

            “Mera, you need to sleep,” he tried to make his voice firm. It was so easy to do with other people, but hell, he never could hold it long with her. Right now, he needed her to focus. He couldn’t have her wandering around the castle in her condition, guards or no guards, “I’ll be back. You sleep and you won’t even know I was gone.”

 

            “Just stay. A little bit,” she pleaded, trying to grip his hand tightly, but her squeeze was rather weak.

 

            “Babe, I would. Honestly. I want to. But we gotta get this moving. I gotta get you well.”

 

            “Just a little, little bit,” she continued to beg.

 

            Arthur leaned down and kissed the top of her head, “I can’t.” He took a step back, feeling her hand fall against the bed. He felt like a horrible jackass, but he couldn’t sit with her. Not when she was sick. Now, more than ever, her mind deteriorating, he had to figure out a solid plan. “I’ll be back,” he walked toward the door before looking back at her. “I promise.”

 

            “Arthur!” She hollered after him.

 

            “You’ll be okay. Just sleep,” he made his way out of the bedroom, the door shutting behind him. He swore he could hear her crying from the other side of the door. Crying for him. Crying from confusion. Crying from pain.

 

            He never truly knew what it meant to feel your heart shatter inside your chest until that very moment.

 

            He swam down the hallway, ocean water beginning to mix with the tears of a Queen.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Upon returning to the command room, Arthur couldn’t help but notice the mixed expressions on everyone’s face between simple curiosity to downright concern. Well, besides Murk who simply appeared impatient, but Arthur was starting to believe that was actually just his face. He didn’t feed their interest. Enough of them were already going to be gossiping about Mera’s demeanor, almost happy to have a tasty piece of gossip, even if said gossip was over a dying woman. It didn’t matter where you were, land or sea, people shared this one thing in common.

 

_They’re assholes._

Trying to shake of his distracted expression, it lingered on his face, but his voice remembered to dive into their work, “right. Recon the area. Get back to me with all reports. I’m gonna be on land.”

 

“Land?” Vulko asked.

 

            “Yeah. Land. We got a few days. I’m gonna be on land,” Arthur declared, “and when you get a feel for the area, send the recon into the city. If they get any feeling something is wrong, at any time, they pull back. If not, scout the area.

 

            “We’ll put together a map,” Murk suggested.

 

            “Good,” Arthur agreed. “Nothing too heavily invested. In and out. No deep exploring. I just need the lay of the land. I’d normally do this part myself, but I can’t go in blind with Mera in her condition. I may only have one shot at making her well. I need to try and know where I’m going if I’m gonna have Guardians popping up on me. But if any of that team thinks they so much as catch a glimpse of a Guardian, I want them out of there.”

 

            Murk nodded, “very well.”

 

            “Is it wise for you to be so far away. With Mera? In her condition?” Vulko asked carefully.

 

            “It’s fine. The docs can’t do anymore for her. The tonics helping less and less. At least, up there, I won’t have someone needing me for every two seconds.”

 

            Murk snorted.

 

            Arthur looked his way, “you got a problem with me wanting undivided time towards my _sick_ fiancé.”

 

            “Your nation is sick too.”

 

            “Atlantis is fine.”

 

            “The water is polluted. Your people are sick. The land, who your run towards, mistreats us and views us as an enemy.”

 

            Arthur lifted brow, “yeah. Sure. I got it, but you know where both of those things are better for me to handle? On the Surface. Or is that why Orm got so much done on his throne down here? Cause Surface bred issues are better handled…far away? Underwater?” He shrugged, “course, we could just, yah know…destroy all of the land. Kill a bunch of people. Wonder where all that debris will go? Sure, they don’t mind putting plastic in our water, but if we take out a chunk of, say, America…I’m sure they won’t throw any of that crap into our water as a big middle finger? I’d say, maybe they’re smart enough not to do that cause polluting our waters is bad for them too, but then here we are with garbage as big as islands floating about all casual like,” she pointed at Murk, “or do you just wanna have me wipe out the entire surface with one big wave? I’ll just have Mera flick her wrist or something.  Sure we won’t get any of those toxins in our water doing that? Hit a big factory with a giant wave, but none of that oil will spill right into our waters. We don’t know how bad oil is for our oceans. Never happened before,” Arthur ranted.

 

            Murk snorted again.

 

            “No. No. Come on. You got a lot to say. I know how close you and your war buddy Orm were. Please. Tell me. You want me to just send my army on the Surface like he was gonna do. Invade. And the Justice League, psssh, they’ll just roll over and let that happen. Sure. Sure. They don’t take out supervillains every month or anything. And that’s what we’d be, yeah? So, tell me your big, bright idea of what I’m supposed to be doing in the next three days that solves these problems that I haven’t already been working on with land governments? Tell me how to jump over the red tape in three days from my throne…that’s down here.”

 

            Murk looked his way, “you spend a lot of the time on the surface.”

 

            “Yeah. I’m drinking beer while Mera braids my hair. You caught me.”

 

            “We have pressing matters,” Vulko intervened.

 

            “We do,” Arthur said, “and I’ve given my orders. And now, I’m gonna spend the next three days taking care of my fiancé. Your Queen,” he glared at Murk, “because she’s dying. And because for all I know…three days is all I got left with her. For once, the damn crown can wait. And if you got a problem with that, find someone to usurp me because right now, I could give a shit.”

 

***

           

Storming down the hallways, Arthur felt he was not alone. Shaking his head, he sighed, “you wanna say something, say it.”

 

Vulko swam up beside him, “I know you are in a lot of pain.”

 

“And…?”

 

“As your advisor, I must say…”

 

“You don’t advise the half-breed King, who’s uneven favor with the people, should tell them where they can shove their crown.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“People would normally chalk it up to grief, but-“

 

Arthur stopped swimming and whipped towards him, “I don’t care. She,” he pointed down the hallway, “is what I care about right now. I get it. The archaic rule. The Kingdom comes before everything else. Except, it doesn’t, Man. Yeah, normally, I care. I’ve been busting my ass since I got that throne trying to make things better for people. It shows. We still got our problems, but job production is up, wage is increasing, foreign affairs actually exists now, but sometimes I’m on the surface. Sometimes I’m up there to relax. Sometimes I’m working with programs, or meeting with government officials to fix pollution. Often I’m trying to establish alliances, to get our nation recognized instead of feared. A lot of the time, I gotta be the Aquaman instead of solely a King.”

 

“They do not always understand that just because your attention is divided it doesn’t mean your work lacks in quality.”

 

“All Kings multi-task. It’s part of the gig.”

 

“Perhaps, not quite like you, but you have Queen Mera at your side. It helps with that division, except-“

 

“They don’t trust her completely either. For betraying Orm. And for being of Xebellion blood. That’s their prejudice man. My work speaks for itself and if that ain’t good enough. They can have the crown. I’ll take my girl to the surface and we’ll live more normal lives. Cause, guess what? I never asked for this in the first place. They don’t like the job I’m doing. They can take it away. They don’t like how I talk about it my job, they can shove it. I won’t let them interfere with my taking care of Mera, who needs me right now, because they have some petty point to make.”

 

Vulko nodded, “If you are not King, the crown could fall into the wrong hands.”

 

“I’m not handing it over. I’ll fight to keep it. But I’m not gonna be walked all over. They want me to beg for their approval because my blood makes me less, well they’re in for a rude awakening.”

 

“I think you awakened them that way long ago,” Vulko smirked.

 

“Doesn’t show. I’ll try harder,” with that, Arthur swam away, ending the conversation.

 

He didn’t slow for anyone until he reached the doors to his chambers. His and Mera’s chambers. Quietly, he opened the door, not wanting to wake her. He floated over to their bed, a small smile lingered as he saw her red locks. His face fell when he saw the way she heaved in her sleep. Damn. She needed her sleep, but crying through it was not restful. Slowly, he sat down beside her, very gently putting his hand on her arm, “Mera, girl.”

 

Her eyes slowly opened, he saw the same glazed look on them as before. An innocent smile fell over her face as she slightly hiccupped, “you came back.”

 

“I told you I would,” he took her weak hand in his strong one, kissing her knuckles, “I got into it with Murk.”

 

She stared at him, simply smiling. He wasn’t sure if she had understood him, but it didn’t matter. She was happy. It was worth waking her up for that.

 

“You wanna leave here? After you slept a little more? See the Surface? See Salty?”

 

She smiled sleepily, giving him a little nod as her eyes fluttered closed.

 

“You sleep, Mera, girl. When you wake up. I’ll take you away from here.”

 

“That’s nice. We can have strawberries there…”

 

His face fell exasperated, “yeah. Sure. Or something…you know…good.”

 

“Strawberries are good.”

 

“Chocolate is good. Beer is good. Or…or wine. You like wine. Wine is good.”

 

“I want wine.”

 

He smiled, “I’ll get you drunk.”

 

“Now…”

 

“Kinda hard down here. And probably not when you’re on your meds. But soon, Babe. When you’re well,” he leaned down, kissing her forehead, breathing her in, “sleep…”

 

“And you read to me?” She continued to talk while dozing off.

 

He laughed lightly, “sure, Babe. Anything you want.”

 

“Now…”

 

“Yeah,” he grabbed the book from her bedside, opening it to appease her sleepy mind, “now is good.”

 

He began to read where her bookmark was left off, but as he suspected, a paragraph in and she was off to dreamland. Placing the book back down, he stroked her hair, wondering if she’d be more herself when she awoke.

 

***

 

           

 “Please. Please. Sit down.”

 

Atlanna’s concerned voice sounded upon Arthur and Mera’s arrival to the lighthouse. Salty, who Arthur’s parents were watching while the pair were away, jumped and twirled with great excitement over their return.

 

“Calm down, Boy,” Arthur reached out and ruffled his fur, getting down to Salty’s level as the happy dog stopped jumping.

 

Atlanna had Mera in her arms, leading her over to the couch. Salty did not seem to appreciate being ignored. The Golden Retriever barked Mera’s way causing Arthur’s sorrowfully smirk, “sorry, Boy. She ain’t feeling so hot. Cut her some slack, will yah?”

 

Mera’s arm came over her stomach as she hunched over slightly, face going pale. Atlanna brushed her hair out of her face. She saw the perspiration forming as Mera’s stomach grew queasy, “oh, Dear. Let’s get her to the bathroom.”

 

Arthur quickly stood up and went to couch. Swiftly picking Mera up, he bounded over towards the bathroom, letting her down just in time for her to get sick. Holding her hair back while she rested on her knees, he rubbed her back gently when the sickness took a break. Mera reached up with her hand, flushing her illness down. The view of it was enough to make her feel nauseous all over again.

 

“I’m disgusting,” she said miserably.

 

Arthur continued to rub her back in soothing circles, “nah, you’re just not feeling well.”

 

“Doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

 

He sat down beside her, gently pulling her against his chest, “the swim up here was probably too much for you. Think I went too fast.”

 

“That used to not matter,” she said.

 

He noted she was actually having a conversation with him. Sleep had done her mind well after all. It was nice to have her lucid, even if the time periods were becoming shorter and shorter, “soon it won’t matter again.”

 

Mera nodded, looking up at him, “what was the deal Knowledge wished to make?”

 

Arthur looked away, “doesn’t matter right now.”

 

“It does. I was not conscious to decide if it could be taken. I should have been.”

 

“You were in rough shape. Knowledge isn’t exactly a guy that waits around.”

 

Except, that was the problem, he was the kind of guy to wait around. Wait for what he wanted because there was no choice to made. It had been made for them. The fact had been chewing silently inside of him since it had gone. What had he done? And how could he tell Mera there was another problem on top of the massive one they had already? She was sick enough. Dying. Her body couldn’t take the stress of it. But he couldn’t take lying to her. Even if by omission. Was it selfish to tell her? Was it wrong to wait?

 

“I can tell something is bothering you. Your brow is furrowed.”

 

“Isn’t it always?”

 

She gave him a pointed look.

 

            “You just puked your guts up. It can wait.”

 

            “Wait for when I’m out of my mind again? I’m losing time. It started in the cornfield and it’s getting worse. It’s…it’s often. So, tell me while I can still do something about it.”

 

            “There’s nothing you can do about it,” he muttered.

 

            “Maybe not physically. But I can do something for you. I carry, whatever it is you shoulder, with you.”

 

            He leaned his head back against the wall, clamming up faster with every word.

 

            “Is it about the city’s location?”

 

            “No, it’s not that. It…it’s not the point of anything right now.”

 

            Mera shifted, hissing slightly, and the pain angered her. Everything hurt. Her legs throbbed. Her back burned. Her ribs hollered with every action. And now he was being elusive. Her gritted her teeth, “I have a right to know. If it has anything to do with any of this, I have a right to know.”

 

            Arthur lifted a hand to her face, to try and comfort her, “Mera, you’re exerting yourself.”

 

            Mera pulled away from him, “tell me what is wrong.”

 

            “I screwed up. That’s what’s wrong. And I don’t know how,” he spat.

 

            “What do you mean you don’t know how?”

 

            “The deal. Knowledge. There’s was never any deliberation on my part. We weren’t given a choice. We signed the dotted line by going there.”

 

            “What is it we agreed to?” Mera asked.

 

            “Don’t you mean, what I agreed to? Let’s not pretend it was you. You were against going there in the first place. And, of course, you may have been right. Not that I can say for sure. He ain’t’ telling me what I’m selling to him. Nah, he’s gonna let us know in his good time.”

 

            She bit her bottom lip, looking away.

 

            He stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Nothing came, “got nothing to say?”

 

            “What do you want me to say?”

 

            “I don’t know. I might have ended the world. Nothing comes to mind?”

 

            “I doubt you ended the world,” she said softly.

 

            “You don’t know that. You have no idea what I did.”

 

            “You didn’t know, Arthur. There was no way for you to know going there sealed any sort of deal. We were told he asks for a price, not that he demands one.”

 

            “I feel so much better,” he snipped.

 

            Mera glared at him, “why are you being like this?”

 

            “Being like what? Like a guy who may have screwed over the whole population? I could have sold Atlantis. I could have damned Europe to a plague. Please, Mera, tell me how I’m supposed to act?”

 

            Mera shook her head at him.

 

            “What?” He sighed.

 

            “Is this why you did not wish to tell me? Because when you did so you were going to act like a complete dullard?” She sighed, “or were you expecting me to berate you instead? But that did not happen, so you berate me because you feel sorry for yourself.”

 

            “Yeah. No. Your deafening silence didn’t say it all.”

 

            “Don’t speak for me. I speak for myself. You don’t get to decide what I am thinking while I process a difficult problem.”

 

            “One I caused.”

 

            “Yes, certainly,” she threw her arms in the air, “you are the victim, Arthur. I am so sorry for needing a second to process it. You want me to berate you? Fine. I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t trust it. A high price means someone of great malice is behind things and it is not to be trusted. And here we are. Exactly where I feared. You want an “I told you so!” I told you so!”

 

            Arthur stood up and walked away from her. He whipped towards her, “everything I have done, I’ve done for you. I’m trying to save you!”

 

            Mera took a breath, tears building in her eyes, “I never said you weren’t! You started in on me. You decided how I felt!”

 

            “And I sure wasn’t far off the mark, was I?”

 

            “No, you decided how I felt. I tried to tell you how I felt. But you won’t hear it. So, I have let you have it your way, Arthur. Because it sure as hell doesn’t matter what I say to be my truth.”

 

            “Your truth. Yeah. Your truth is giving up and dying. Leaving me. That’s your truth.”

 

            Mera pushed herself off the ground with her good hand. She stood before him on quivering legs, “giving up. Look at me…you have no idea what I’ve done to survive. To not leave you.”

 

            “Killing me? To not leave me? Interesting…”

 

            “You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. You weren’t there. It was a trial and I won.” She smirked, “and a trial for what? The deal was, apparently, already made. Why the hell did I have to go through that?”

 

            “More things that are my fault, right?”

 

            She pointed her finger at him, “you decided it was your fault. Not me! Stop trying to abate your guilt by projecting it all over me. I didn’t say any of that.”

 

            “You told me so,” he mimicked her previous words.

 

            “You’re scared because you don’t know what the deal is going to be. And you’re not handling it. Now that you’ve finally said it aloud. Now that you are really facing it, you can’t handle it.” She glared at him, tears beginning to fall, “but it is not fair for you to put it on me. To make me villainous in my truth, so you have something unjust to focus on by way of alleviating how you feel about yourself.” She shook her head, “I’m supposed to be your partner in everything good and ugly. But now,” she shook her head, “now, you can go at it alone.” 

 

            Arthur moved past her leaving the bathroom.

 

            Resting her head against the wall, she slunk down on the floor, and buried her face into her knees.

 

           

***

 

            Night had fallen and so had another bottle of Guinness at his side. The screen door to the back opened and closed. Arthur reached forward and grabbed another beer as a shadow lingered closer.

 

            “Want one?” Arthur asked.

 

            Tom sat down beside him on the steps with a nod of his head.

 

            Not looking his way, Arthur handed him the beer before fetching a second one for himself and cracking it open.

 

            “This your plan. To drink all night?”

 

            “Maybe tomorrow too.”

 

            “Ah,” Tom nodded, taking a sip. “The first fight I had with your mother, I did about the same. Not into the next day, but I sat where you sat. I drank. And inside, she drank too,” he laughed, “and listened to my record player. Which I could hear. She knew I could hear it. She wanted me to. Revenge, you know. By having fun after I was a jerk.”

 

            Arthur smirked, “you telling me I’m a jerk?”

 

            “Nah,” Tom then paused, shaking his head back and forth deliberating, “maybe.”

 

            “She tell you about it.”

 

            “Tell me about?” Tom laughed, “the neighbors could probably hear you. Anyway, we heard enough.”

 

            “Enough to take her side. Great,” Arthur drank the beer.

 

            “It’s not about sides, Son.”

 

            “What’s it about then?”

 

            “You’re carrying everything. Of course, you’re going to be short with people. A person can only take so much.” Tom paused, “you’re also mad at Mera.”

 

Arthur grunted.

 

“But you aren’t mad at her for why you think you’re mad at her.”

 

            “Sure.”

 

            “It’s true,” his father took another sip of beer.

 

            “Alright, Pops,” he sighed, looking at his father with disbelief in his eyes, “tell me why I’m mad at her then.”

 

            He gave him a sad smile, “you’re insightful, Arthur. So, you’re out here on some level worried about how she thinks of you after…whatever happened, wherever you were. Whatever mistake you think you made. And you are concerned about that. And you think you’re mad at her for dying. But it’s not that exactly either.”

 

            “This going somewhere?”

 

            Tom held his beer up to quiet Arthur, “you’re mad at her because she stops being herself. Because she is probably going to die and you lose time with her. Because it also leaves you alone with everything. Suddenly, it’s all on you and you alone to fix this. You don’t have your partner.”

 

            “She’s got no control over that.”

 

            “I didn’t say it was logical. I just said…that’s why you’re mad at her. Because it makes it harder. And because it’s like she’s already gone when she’s supposed to still be here. You feel robbed of what time you’ve got left with her.”

 

            “I got forever with her. She’s not gonna die.”

 

            “Maybe not. You go to this city. You get her that cure. But there’s no guarantees in life. You were raised seeing what it’s like for someone who’s lost their true love. It’s scary,” he put his hand on his shoulder, “but now. Now. Now you wanted to squeeze every last drop of quality time in with her that you had left. And even that’s being taken. So, you’re mad cause it’s her brain that isn’t remembering.”

 

            “That’s not fair,” Arthur looked away.

 

            “You’re stressed. You feel guilt. You feel loss. Time is running out. The pressures you’re under is inhumane. You blew up today,” Tom shook head, “it’s understandable.”

 

            “I was awful to her.”

 

            Tom nodded his head, “yeah.”

 

            Arthur looked at him, “thanks, Dad.” He sighed, “you know, she said some shit too.”

 

            Tom turned and looked at him for a long moment, “are you a child? She was mean to me too? Of course she was. You were fighting. A fight you started.”

 

            “Seriously, Dad. I’m starting to think she’s your favorite between the two of us.”

 

            Tom smirked, “she shows interest in my sea glass collection. Of course, she’s my favorite.”

 

            “Think she just likes the colors.”

 

            “Well, she’s interested. Unlike you.”

 

            Arthur smiled. He looked at his beer and sighed, “I really screwed up. I left her alone in the damn bathroom. Stormed off when she can hardly support her own weight.”

 

            “Your mother got her.”

 

            “That’s not the point. I really, _really_ shouldn’t have done that. I got so damn overwhelmed, but I really shouldn’t have left her like that.”

 

            Tom nodded, “I’m sorry goes a long way, Son.”

 

            “Maybe.”

 

            “Look, she did rub some salt in your wounds during a fight. But it also wasn’t a fair fight, Arthur. And I think you’re seeing that now.”

 

            Arthur sighed, “I am. I’m a jackass.”

 

            “You’re not a jackass. You acted like a jackass, but you’re not a jackass. Right about now..she’s sick and she needs you. You support her. And then you come to me, or your mother, or a buddy, and we’ll support you.”

 

            “I’ve never been that type,” Arthur finished off his beer.

 

            Tom stood up, “Well, you need to start. Unless you want to blow up at your girl again while she sprawled out on a bathroom floor.”

 

Tom patted Arthur’s shoulder, before heading inside, leaving Arthur with that final point.

 

***

“I’m an asshole.”

 

Mera looked up from the guest room bed where she lay lost in thought, “yes, you are.”

 

 Mera certainly had been in no mood to go to Arthur’s old room. She hadn’t the need to ask. Atlanna had put two and two together and had placed her gently in a separate room. It didn’t matter if Mera had known Atlanna when she was a kid. There was nothing more awkward than being left alone with your boyfriend’s mother after she overhead a fight. Atlanna was graceful about it because, well, Atlanna was grace in a bottle. Still, Mera had been relieved when she was left alone.

 

Arthur walked in, but kept his distance, “I’m sorry.”

 

Mera nodded.

 

“You were right. I put it on you because I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know what the hell I just signed off on with Knowledge. And that’s enough to put me out of my damn mind.”

 

“Add on a dying girlfriend, and an unknown city you have to venture into, and you finally snapped. I already know this, Arthur. I got there before you did.”

 

Arthur nodded, “I’m sorry.”

 

Mera looked away.

 

“I know you’re still pissed. I don’t blame you. I love you,” he said, looking her way, “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. I don’t want to be a guy that hurts his girlfriend.”

 

Mera looked his way, stretching her hand out towards him.

 

He stared for a moment, and then, he put his hand with her’s.

 

She guided him to the bed where he sat on the edge, “you’re not that guy. I don’t think you knew you were going to panic when you told me. I think your own rush of emotions surprised you. Or am I wrong?”

 

He shook his head, “you’re not. I don’t know, Mera. I got caught up in it and I just…it’s like you know you’re wrong, but you’re trying to be right because…”

 

“You’re already scared. You don’t want to add being wrong to the list.”

 

“it’s not the way to handle it.”

 

She took his hand and brought it to her lips, “you’re human. You’re entitled to a bad day.” She shrugged, “besides, I was mean too. And I am sorry that I acted like I blamed you. I don’t.”

 

He sighed, “I kinda think I pushed you to say that. Even if you think it.”

 

Mera shook her head, “I really don’t, Arthur. It wasn’t just about me. Why we went there. It was about Atlantis too. It was about their well-being. You had to go based on the facts you had. There was no way to know the deal would be made upon arrival.”

 

Pushing herself up, she grimaced through the pain. Gently, she put her hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly before resting her chin on his shoulder, “we will figure it out. Whatever deal was made. We will figure it out. They are trial, Gods. Yes?”

 

“We’ll call them.”

 

Mera smiled, “yes, we’ll file a formal complaint.”

 

He looked over his shoulder, “seriously?”

 

She nodded, “why not?”

 

“I don’t think their number is listed.”

 

“Take it a day at a time. Knowledge is not cashing in on his deal, yes? It is a deal you have to fulfill, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We can work with that,” she said, laying back down.

 

“How?”

 

“You see, my Love, it cannot be a plague to Europe. You can’t fulfill that unless you have a vial of that under your pillow. I know you don’t. I sleep there too.”

 

“I could have sold Atlantis.”

 

“Then we fight back. The Atlantean army will follow you, not Knowledge. And if they are, somehow, bound to him, we can still fight back. With the League, hell, maybe even Xebel’s army.”

 

“After your father exiled you?”

 

“The only thing he will hate more than a Surface born holding the throne is someone of no noble bloodline at all.” She paused, “And this is just one scenario. Whatever the deal is, we refuse to fulfill it or we fight back against it. And if we piss the Gods off in the process, that is quite fine. I would not mind an audience with them after such trickery.”

 

He smiled and leaned over her, kissing her, “my sexy, badass Warrior Queen.”

 

“Don’t you forget it,” she winked.

 

He sighed, running his hands through her soft, hair, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you. And I shouldn’t have left you when you’re sick like that-“

 

She put her finger to his lips, silencing him, “you already said you were sorry. I accepted. We move on and not dwell. All is well, my Love. All is well.”

 

Lying down beside her, he took her into his arms, “I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Sure, you do. But that’s okay that you don’t think so. I knew taking you on, I’d have a little self-esteem work to do. Do not fret. I will roll up my sleeves and get to it.”

 

“Oh yeah? How?”

 

She rolled on top of him and grinned, leaning down and kissing him until the sun came up.

           


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I feel like the formatting is extra chaotic in this chapter. -sigh- It looks normal in my word document...Anyway, just thought I'd whine about that. I hope you all enjoy the chapter nevertheless. :D)

            The sun was good for Mera’s spirits. The morning after Arthur and she had intimately connected, her mind was dazed once more. Yet, she was happily happy to be in his arms as if he were the only person in the entire world that ever was and ever would be. For some people, this would make them happy. For Arthur, it tore him up inside. There was always a sweetness to Mera as much as she was a badass. He remembered the first time she had tried to cook him breakfast. She was so excited to make him his favorite breakfast foods. She had this amazing confidence he couldn’t quite understand, but he admired it in her. She got to work, thinking she could just do it cause, well, it was cooking. People had been doing it since the beginning of time. How hard could it be?

 

            Hard. As it turns out.

 

            She was thrilled to serve him his over-salted, burnt bacon and pancakes. And, yeah, she had salted those pancakes too.

 

            The look of delight on her face, such hopeful eyes that she might have done well, he couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. He ate it up, and to this day, he was still eating burnt bacon and salty pancakes. But, Mera, well, she thought she was a good cook and it made her happy. And that…that made him happy.

 

            That type of sweetness Arthur enjoyed.

 

            The sweetness from her mind being erased, where she saw the world through one of his father’s pieces of sea glass…that didn’t warm him so much. At least in the burnt bacon state she could kick anyone’s ass. That’s why he loved her. She was everything. She was perfect to him. In this state, she was vulnerable. Vulnerable was _never_ Mera.

 

            “Did you two work things out?”

 

            Arthur turned from the kitchen window, finding his father entering.

 

            Arthur nodded, “yeah. We’re fine. She’s understanding. Or she was,” Arthur stared out the window and sighed, “now she’s…confused again.”

 

            Tom nodded his head, “it’s not easy. Being the one who carries the load. It’s terrible, what’s happening to her. It’s just as terrible being the caretaker,” Tom said, pouring a cup of coffee.

 

            “I don’t know about that,” Arthur said.

 

            “I do. You’re being tormented. In a different way. But you’re being tormented. And it’s also why you finally snapped.”

 

            “Dad, stop.”

 

            Tom took a sip of coffee. He knew how his son was about these things. Not one for being the center of attention. It was why it was so hard for him to embrace being the Aquaman. The hard thing about being different wasn’t only the lack of fitting in. It was also the sticking out. For some people it was the trouble with standing out for ‘the wrong reason.’ For Tom’s son, it was the mere fact that eyes were on him. Go figure, he was also destined to be King.

 

            And Arthur didn’t want to talk about much.

 

            And, particularly, he didn’t want to talk about the hard trials of life.

 

            “Well, when you want to talk to me, you can.” He then pointed his coffee cup towards the window, “and in the meantime, trust in her will to survive.”

 

            Arthur sighed, “she’s not Mera. Not right now.”

 

            Tom gave Arthur a reassuring smile, “she’s Mera where it counts.”

 

***

 

            Sitting on the dock, Mera dangled her legs over the water. Her face looked up at the sun as a light breeze gradually whipped through her hair. Arthur had dressed her in a light white frock after changing her bandages that morning. The soft, but thin material was kind on her wounds, hardly rubbing or pressing against them. It was the burns on her legs which bothered her the most. They throbbed and there seemed to be no gentle way to change her bandages that did not make her wince and whimper.

 

            “Don’t want to get those wet.”

 

            Mera’s dazed eyes turned towards him after a moment. The sun illuminated behind Arthur’s hair. His natural blonde highlights, caught by the star’s face, gave him a golden frame. Mera smiled at him loopy and silly.

 

            _She’s Mera where it counts._

Arthur’s father’s words repeated in his mind as he watched his far to innocent warrior Queen looking at him with such precious glee. It would have been adorable if it weren’t brought on by a disease eating her mind. Joining Mera, he lowered himself to sit beside her. One leg dangling over the dock, the other casually bent into his chest, his arm resting on it, “not getting your bandages wet?”

 

            She shook her head.

 

            Yeah. Mera, girl wasn’t with it right now. His Mera would have snipped at him something like ‘do they look wet?’ or ‘I’m not an utter imbecile.’

 

            “I miss you sassing me,” he admitted to her, though he wasn’t sure she really understood what he was saying.

 

            Mera frowned.

 

            _Damn. Maybe she does get me._

“I didn’t mean that in the way you’re taking it,” he backtracked. “I just mean…I don’t like you sick. I don’t like you going through that.”

 

Great. Two days in a row he was screwing up with her. It was like he snapped yesterday and now the floodgates were open.  His emotions and tongue had been compromised. He had been doing a much better job of caring for her before these damn trials. Before…before he massively, and very likely, screwed something up, somewhere, for someone. Who the hell knew? And that’s what made it worse. The waiting. The not knowing. There was no dealing with anything if you didn’t know what there was to deal with.

 

“I’m different,” Mera said softly.

 

His eyes widened in surprise. His girl, even mind being melted away, held insight, “you feel that?”

 

She nodded quietly.

 

“It’s only because you’re sick, Mera. It’s playing with your mind. It’s making it hard for you to communicate. And to grasp what’s happening around you. But…”he took her hand in her’s, “you got me, girl. I’ll guide you till you’re well again. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

She bit her bottom lip, face twisting for a moment as his gentle words came. She nodded after a moment. Arthur could see in her eyes that she had only grasped some of what he said. Right. Shorter answers for her.

 

Mera looked back at the water.

 

Arthur tilted his head, catching her eyes before she could evade his gaze.

 

She looked back at him, biting her lip harder.

 

“You’re safe,” he said gently.

 

He saw her shoulders ease from tension. Her teeth let go of her lip. She seemed to relax at the reassurance.

 

Shorter answers always.

 

Gently, reaching out with one arm, he pulled her to him. Her head rested against his chest, “I wish I could swim,” she said lightly.

 

He smiled, “I can change your bandages to those fancy seaweed ones we got in Atlantis.”

 

Mera nuzzled into him some more.

 

“You can swim,” he said, in case it was too much explanation for her to register.

 

Mera smiled against him, “I’d like that. And you swim too?”

 

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of her head. “You won’t be alone. Not ever.”

 

***

 

“Slide down into my arms.”

 

Mera sat on the edge of the doc. A black bikini covered her up while the seaweed Arthur had swum for was wrapped around her back, torso, hand, and legs. He floated easily in the water, arms stretched out to help his love join him. Getting in water was supposed to be natural for her, but even her very nature was robbed, now wasn’t it?

 

“Come on. Just slide. I got you.”

 

Mera pushed herself forward a little, mindful of her ribs. But as promised, as her backside was no longer connected to the edge of the dock, he already had her in his arms. Arthur eased her into the water carefully, so she could stretch out without jarring her ribs. Once submerged with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

 

He smiled at her teasingly, “yeah. That’s cool, girl. I’ll do all the work. You just rest.”

 

In return for his playful sass, she kissed his salty lips with a soft giggle.

 

“What are you laughing about?” He smirked, wading through the water.

 

“You,” she smirked.

 

“Me? I’m funny?” He lifted a brow, a playful light in his eyes.

            She nodded her head.

 

            “I’m not funny. I’m intense,” he gave her faux stern expression.

 

            She took her good hand from around his neck, making one side of his mouth smile with her finger, “grouchy King.”

 

            “Half a grouch now.”

 

            She smirked, unwrapping her legs around him.

 

            “Hey now, where are you going?”

 

            “Swimming,” she said with her dozy expression.

 

            She tried to stretch out away from him, but he gently caught her ankle, “stay with me.”

 

            “Why?”

 

            “Ocean big. Mera little.”

 

            Damn. He couldn’t believe he had dared to call Mera little to her face. She was tiny, sure, but she was fierce as hell. His strong girl. Right now, she was kind of more of the lost lamb kind. He just hoped when she was lucid again she didn’t remember him saying that because there’d be hell to pay. Then again, angry Mera was pretty sexy, so maybe he did want her to remember…A spitfire, she was, and fiery just like her hair. If it weren’t for her sickness, right about now, little bikini under a glistening sun, he’d be about all over her.

 

            But she _was_ sick, so the time for sexy play was retained to last night. Instead he played babysitter and he had her anchored to him by the ankle.  

 

            “You can see me,” she grinned.

 

            “I can. Until you move wrong and your ribs hurt, or your legs tire out, and you sink. Sure you can breathe underwater just fine, but I still gotta get you your medicine in time. I don’t feel like risking the current drifting you far away. Would take me longer to find you.”

 

            Arthur was speaking too fast for her brain to keep up. He could see her mind at work, trying to grab on to each word he was saying, attempting to piece together these fast sentences like a puzzle.

 

            “Swim with me,” he said gently. He reached his arms out and gently pulled her towards him. Her legs wrapped back around his middle as he tilted back again, using his arm to make them swim smoothly, “it’s better. Like you’re on a ride.”

 

            “A ride?” She tilted her head.

 

            He smirked, “I need to take you to a carnival or something when you’re feeling better.”

 

            Her head tilted again, but this time it wasn’t her sickness. These weren’t common words to her. They had been together for a good while now, but between ruling in Atlantis, and fighting crime on the Surface, there was many simple joys of his original hometown that had yet to be discovered. Some crisis always seemed to cause them to miss the yearly carnival…Not that he had ever been a big carnival going kinda guy. But this time, with her, he didn’t know. Maybe he’d like to win her a stuffed animal or something. It was the boyfriend thing to do.

 

            “Dad’s barbecuing for us tonight. Should be fun.”

 

            “Emmm…”she said gently against him, her head back against his chest as the ocean waters rocked against them.

 

            “You sleepy?” He asked.

 

            She shook her head no, but he noted she felt heavier against him now.

 

            “No? Cause you look pretty sleepy.”

 

            “You are.”

 

            He laughed lightly, “you’re actually kinda right about that.” He paused, “how about we go inside? You can take a little nap.”

 

            She shook her head, “I wanna swim.”

 

            All morning. All day. Her mind was vacant. He looked up at the sky. She had never been this out of it for this long. He started to worry her mind was completely gone…

 

            “Okay, sweet girl. You got it,” he said gently. “You got it.”

 

***

 

            She was back _there_. The glowing orange candlelight filled the room. Biting her bottom lip, she stared in confusion as Arthur stood before her. He wore his usual jeans. He had on a sleeveless black shirt she had seen him in too many times to count. He was standing before her as she rested on her knees. A wicked smile on her face and she knew he was up to no good.

 

            “Why are we here?” Mera asked.

 

            Arthur snorted, “like you really don’t know,” he took one of the long blades off a table set in front of him. “You know, there’s so many options here. You want a closer look? See what we do to people who don’t tell the truth”

 

            Mera swallowed, “please,” she said softly. “We are supposed to be home.”

 

            “Yeah. But I don’t much want to be home with you. I want to be doing this. Or did you forget,” he walked towards her, placing the blade under her chin, “we never had anything together. And I never loved you.”

 

            Before her eyes, his face turned purple, his neck bruised, “it’s why you killed me.”

 

            Mera whipped her head, “no. No. That was not you.”

           

            “It’s why I killed you…”

 

The terrible stench of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. Mera looked down as the skin on her arms began to slowly melt away.

 

Mera screamed…

 

 

….

 

 

And then she was screaming in a different room. Eyes opened, the room around her was that of the lighthouse where Arthur had grown up. She was back in his childhood room they often bunked in when they came home to visit. It was full of ‘teenage boy stuff,’ and it normally amused her to look through his old things. Get a glimpse of the Arthur she had never met. It was cute. Posters on the walls of bands, a video game console in the corner of his room, and a bookshelf his father insisted he have filled. Not that Arthur had bothered with reading in his free time, but his father’s efforts had merit nevertheless. Arthur noted, when they were first dating, that already, Mera had read more books from his bookshelf than he ever had.

 

Now, the room was confusing to her.

 

It was hazy. She didn’t understand where she was anymore. She didn’t understand why Arthur was being so cruel to her. She didn’t understand why reality shifted so greatly in front of her very eyes.

 

“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Arthur’s voice came. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”

 

She pushed herself away from him, not mindful of her bad hand. She cried out in pain as she put too much pressure on her crushed fingers.

 

“Careful,” he cautioned her gently, reaching for her damaged hand to take a look.

 

Mera pushed away from him a second time and he tilted his head confused.

 

“Why am I here?” She asked.

 

“You fell asleep when we were swimming.”

 

She shook her head at him, “no! No!” She put her hand through her hair, pulling at her locks in frustration.

 

Arthur reached forward, carefully taking her hand, “don’t do that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

 

“You hurt me!” She looked at him accusingly.

 

Arthur stood and took a step away from her at once, “Mera. You had a bad dream. That’s all that’s happened here.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Arthur turned, to find his parents standing in the doorway, likely alerted to the screaming. He looked at them, trying to find an explanation, but no words could come. He was still piecing together what had happened himself.

 

Quickly, Atlanna crossed the room, sitting down besides Mera. Very gently, she took the confused, crying woman in her arms. She then stroked Mera’s hair comfortingly.

 

“She was sleeping. She woke up freaking out,” Arthur said.

 

“Is that what happened? Did you have a bad dream?” Atlanna asked Mera.

 

Mera shook her head, “he brought me there again!”

 

“I didn’t bring you anywhere, Mera,” Arthur said softly.

 

“You did,” She glared at him accusingly.

 

Atlanna put her hand up to Arthur before he could answer, “I think she needs a little break. Just give her a few minutes.”

 

Arthur sighed and nodded his head, putting his hands in his pockets, “ah. Yeah. Sure.”

 

Atlanna watched for him to step out into the hallway, Tom joining his son in the process. When the door was closed, she returned her attention to Mera, “where do you think he took you?”

 

Mera bit her bottom lip.

 

“It’s okay. You can tell me. Tell me what you remember.”

 

“He brought me back there. Where he hurt me. The room makes him mean.”

 

Atlanna continued to gently stroke her hair, “and he was mean to you again there?”

 

“He was starting to be, but then…”

 

“Then what?” Atlanna coaxed her gently.

 

Mera’s face felt flushed, wishing to swallow the words, but knowing she had to state her vulnerability. Even in such a vulnerable state, the need to not be so open remained, “I burned again. He even said he did it…”

 

“And then you were where?” Atlanna asked.

 

“Here.”

 

“Do you remember where you were before the dre-“ she caught herself and quickly corrected course, “where you were before the bad room?”

 

She tried to think back. All she could remember was shapes. She remembered Arthur’s face. It was nicer. His hands where nicer. But where…her mind wouldn’t allow her to go back that far, “I just remember him being nice.”

 

“Arthur was nice?”

 

Mera nodded her head. She sucked back threatening tears, her voice croaking out, “he doesn’t love me.”

 

Atlanna’s face fell, “no. Mera. No. He adores you.”

 

Mera shook her head, the tears unable to be controlled, “no, he doesn’t. He said. I don’t get it.”

 

“You don’t get what?”

 

“Why he would be so mean…or so nice…” her voice trailed off.  

 

Atlanna paused, trying to find the correct words to explain it. It was difficult. She was having nightmares about the trials, but she couldn’t differentiate between dreams and reality, especially if she didn’t have a marker for the events before the dream occurred, “the man who hurt you…he looked like Arthur. But he wasn’t Arthur.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Mera’s voice quivered.

 

“I know. You went through something scary,” Atlanna simply explained, “and you sleep, right?”

 

Mera stared, confused by what that had to do with anything. Still, despite the red head’s perturbed expression, she nodded.

 

“When you remember Arthur being mean. It’s a dream. From a scary thing you went through. Someone was pretending to be Arthur and he hurt you. But it’s not him.”

 

Mera shook her head, wiping her eyes, “that’s not true. I was there. I _saw_ him.”

 

Atlanna held her compassionately. It was hard enough to deal with the long term effects of a traumatizing event when you had the capacity to understand reality from nightmares. It was a completely different matter to deal with it when your mind refused to function properly.

 

“What you’re seeing happened before. You’re dreaming about that scary situation. But it’s over. And you’re safe here.”

 

Mera wiped a tear that began manifesting in the corner of her eye, “why did he hurt me?”

 

“Someone pretending to be him did. You just don’t remember. As you don’t remember before dreaming about the bad room,” Atlanna tried to explain in the best way she could. Mera’s memory of the trials was completely wiped with the lack of lucidity. She had a feeling explaining trials would be too complicated a matter for her to grasp.

 

“It wasn’t him?”

 

Atlanna smiled, “it wasn’t him.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“Someone you don’t have to worry about, my Dear. They’re gone.”

 

Mera nodded gently, though she remained to have a hard expression on her face.

 

“How could you get from the bad room to here so fast? If it wasn’t sleep?” Atlanna asked.

 

Mera wiped her eyes, “I don’t know.”

 

“It was a dream. They happen when you sleep. You know that?”

 

Mera nodded.

 

“I promise you. That’s all it was.”

 

Mera nodded, seeming to expect this, somewhat hesitantly. But she was allowing Atlanna’s words to sink in regardless of her concerns.

 

Seemingly calmed down, Atlanna laid her back down against the pillows. Opening the door, she joined Arthur in the hallway. He stood against the wall with Tom, both looking rather worried.

 

“Is she okay?” Arthur asked.

 

“I think she’s beginning to understand things better. She was dreaming about the trials. She does not seem to remember prior events from even earlier today. Not clearly.”

 

Arthur sighed, “great. But the memories are somewhere in her. They must be. If she’s having nightmares about things.”

 

“Trauma is a powerful thing,” Atlanna said knowingly, “it manifests itself in many ways.”

 

Tom gently took her hand.

 

“And she can’t deal with it because she doesn’t have the capacity to. Do you know how confusing this has got to be for her? How scary it’s got to be? She’s trapped inside her own mind. Unable to remember. To communicate properly. And on some level she knows it. She was able to say that much to me,” Arthur wished he had something to hit in that moment, but there was nothing but plaster around him. Sure, he could put a hole in the wall alright. But what would that do? He wouldn’t feel better. Mera wouldn’t be well. And there would be a hole in his parent’s wall.

 

“They will have intel for you soon,” Atlanna reassured him.

 

“Yeah…in the meantime…she gonna go through this every time she has a nightmare.”

 

“And she’s okay,” Atlanna reached out and rubbed his arm, “if I have to talk her through it again, I will. The important thing is she has a patient support system. The more she internalizes our support, the dreams may lessen.”

 

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like her being hurt. He didn’t like her suffering. He didn’t like her unhappy. All of the above was happening in the next room over, “yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

 

Atlanna took his hand and gestured her head back towards the room, “come one. I think she’s okay now.”

 

Leading him back inside his bedroom, Mera gingerly sat up again at the sight of Arthur. Atlanna made her back over to the bed, putting her arms around the red-head, “see. It’s just Arthur. He’s not scary.”

 

Mera nodded her head quietly.

 

Arthur knelt down before her. Cautiously, he reached out and cupped her face with his hand, “I’m so sorry you got hurt. I’m so sorry they looked like me. None of this is your fault.”

 

Mera tilted her head to the side, studying him. He was so kind now. His hands so gentle. His energy so different. She couldn’t help but long to believe what he said was true, “you do love me?”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened, his voice unwavering and strong, “of course, I love you. You’re my strong, badass Queen. I love everything about you. Every face you make. Even the pissed off ones. They’re sexy as hell…”

 

Atlanna cleared her throat.

 

Arthur shifted where he kneeled uncomfortably.

 

“Anyway…” Arthur focused back on Mera, “I love you. No one who looks like me who says otherwise could ever be me. You’re sweet and you’re sassy. And I love each part of you,” he reached down, taking her good hand in his, squeezing her finger as he brought them to his lips, kissing each one softly.

 

She smirked, not fully catching what he said as he spoke so quickly, but she felt what he said. She felt how he meant it. And she knew Atlanna had not tricked her. There was no way the man from the bad room could be this man right now. On a primal level, she could simply sense how different their intentions and energies were, “I know it wasn’t you. I understand now.” she said softly, looking downward instead of at him, “everything is fuzzy all the time.”

 

“I know,” he said gently, “and you’re not wrong in what you’re saying. You got hurt by someone who looked like me. You’re right. But I promise you, you’re safe with me. You’re safe here. You’re safe with my parents. It’s gonna be okay.”

 

Mera looked back his way and offered him a reassuring smile despite how quickly he was speaking. He understood one word in the quick bunch he rattled off. _Safe._

 

Arthur stood up, “cool. Alright then,” he mustered some more energized, infectious mannerisms, “bath for you and then it’s dinner,” he lifted her up in his arms seeing a pout form over her face. “Hey, don’t you pout at me. You’re the one who wanted to bake in the sun for most of the day.”

 

Mera smiled, she didn’t fully know the details of the day, but she remembered the glistening sun upon his hair, highlighting him majestically.

 

He noted the dopey smile on his face, “What’s that smile for?”

 

“I like the sun.”

 

Arthur snorted, “yeah, well now you get to like the bath.”

 

He carried her to the other room leaving his parents to get dinner ready while he got his girl freshened up.

 

 

           


	19. Chapter 19

Sitting at the patio table out back, Arthur sat beside Mera. Normally, he’d be next to his father, doing the stereotypical dude thing, and watching the meat. Or maybe he’d help his mother set things up and Mera could watch the meat. Whatever worked. Right now, Mera was dopily looking around at the table. Arthur didn’t trust leaving her around by herself. Her legs didn’t allow her to wander far, or fast, but with the threat of guardians waking up, he wanted his eyes on her. It was concerning. Why hadn’t they made a move? It wasn’t exactly a secret where he lived.

 

“Drink enough water today?” He asked Mera gently.

 

She nodded her head.

 

“Nah. I don’t think so,” he said gently. “You were in the sun a lot.” He reached over to the cooler by himself and pulled out a seltzer water can, “how does cranberry lime sound, Girl?”

 

Mera nodded her head again.

 

He wasn’t really sure she was grasping onto much of what he was saying. Her focus was now more on the sky than on him. As long as he was near her, she seemed to be calm. Which was a nice little change of course after her nap earlier. She seemed fine enough now. With that, he cracked open the water and put it in front of her.

 

“Drink, Girl.”

 

“Drink, Boy,” she sassed back.

 

He gasped a laugh at that. His eyebrows raised, “oh. Okay. I see how it is. Guess you are Mera where it counts.”

 

Tom wandered over with a platter of steaks and chicken, “what’s that?” He asked.

 

“She’s sassing me,” he pointed at Mera.

 

Mera smirked.

 

Tom’s face brightened at that, “good. Good. Someone should.” Tom looked to the side of the house, “where’s the-“ His gaze fell by where Arthur sat, finding the cooler pulled right up to his chair, “really, Arthur? You couldn’t walk two feet for a drink?”

 

“Didn’t wanna get up.” Arthur sat back and stretched, “I’m a natural born slacker.”

 

“Hey, Mera? Wanna add a smack to the back of his head on the side of your sass?” Tom teased.

 

Mera looked confused, “I’m supposed to drink.”

 

Arthur rubbed Mera’s shoulder gently, “sorry, dad. Thinks jokes are a little hard for her to grasp. Unless she’s makin’ ‘em”

 

Tom nodded, “it’s fine. You drink you water. I’m gonna go give Atlanna a hand.”

 

“Sure thing, Pop. I’d help, but…” Arthur gestured his head at Mera.

 

“You’ve got enough to think about, Son. Least we can do is help with a meal or two,” Tom said before disappearing inside.

 

            Mera lifted the can of water to her lips, taking a small sip.

 

            “Atta, girl,” Arthur said reassuringly, continuing to rub her shoulder.

 

            A few minutes later, Mera was finishing her water and his parents had everything set on the table. As his parents sat down, Arthur grabbed Mera’s plate, “oh. Oh. Let’s see what we got here for you, Mera girl.”

 

            He noted her lack of interest in the food. She seemed to be looking more longingly at the water. Her natural habitat likely calling out in her core state. Salty came over though, snapping her attention back. The fluffy golden retriever put his head in her lap looking, no doubt, for food. It caused Mera to laugh and happily pet him.

 

            “Salty…sit, Boy,” Arthur commanded him as he fixed Mera’s plate.

 

            “He doesn’t want to,” Mera said lightly.

 

            Arthur bit back a laugh. He honestly couldn’t really determine if that was sick Mera, or just Mera herself. The amount of treats she fed that dog when Arthur wasn’t looking…their boy wanted for nothing, that was for sure.  He put Mera’s plate in front of her, “try not to feed all of it to the dog.”

 

            “Half,” she smirked.

 

            “If you actually eat half your dinner, I’ll be thrilled,” Arthur picked up her seltzer water can, feeling it empty, “knew you were thirsty.” He reached down into the cooler beside him.

 

            “I want that one,” she pointed.

 

            “Oh, boy,” Tom said.

 

            Atlanna shook her head, “normally it’s wine she wants.”

 

            Arthur looked and noted she was pointing to his beer, “great. Yeah. Sure, Girl. On any normal day. You could. You wouldn’t have to ask. But,” he ran a hand through his hair, “you can’t. Not with your medicine. I don’t know how alcohol mixes with Atlantean tonics. Seems like a bad idea.”

 

            She tilted her head to the side as he rambled, her mind trying to latch onto his words once more.

 

            He noted this and sighed, “no,” he said simply.

 

            She pouted at once.

 

            “Now. Now. None of that,” he picked up her fork and knife, “eat your dinner,” he cut everything into smaller pieces for her, figuring it be easier for her loopy mind.

 

            He tried to hand the fork off to her, but she continued to stubbornly pout at him.

 

            “Mera, babe, it could hurt you,” he looked over at Atlanna.

 

            She paused, “I don’t know. We don’t have alcohol in Atlantis. There are no Atlantean studies to show how alcohol mixes with medicine. For something as serious as the tonic she is taking, I would not risk lowering its effect. Even if her mind is going, it seems to be keeping her out of intense pain. I wouldn’t risk it.”

 

            Naturally, Mera didn’t understand, nor accept, ‘it’s bad for you.’ Tom was certainly proven right once more. She was still Mera. And she did not like to be told what to do.

 

            Tom, having an idea, stood up and went to the cooler grabbing a beer, “I got your back, Mera. I always do,” he backed up into the house.

 

            “Dad. No. What did we just say? It’s about her health,” Arthur called.

 

            Tom came back several seconds later, putting the open beer in front of her. Mera looked thrilled, smiling from ear to ear at Tom as if he were her accomplice in a sneaky crime.

 

            “Dad-“ Arthur began.

 

            “Just smell it Arthur,” Tom shook his head.

 

            Arthur lifted the beer bottle up, causing Mera to look at him like a child having their toy taken away. But when Arthur smelled it, he smelled nothing, and he instantly realized why his father had gone into the house. Which, yeah, that part had perplexed him since they had a bottle opener right on the table. But now he got it. He had dumped the beer and filled the container with water.

 

            “There you go, Babe.”

 

            Mera grabbed up the beer bottle happily, taking a sip, none the wiser to any trickery.

 

            “She’s not after alcohol. She’s after the pretty bottle,” Tom said simply.

 

            “Wow. Dad. It’s almost like you’ve raised a kid or something,” Arthur gave him a shit eating grin.

 

            Tom snorted, “I raised something alright.”

 

            Arthur went to make a retort in faux offense, but he stopped as he saw Vulko turn up in the backyard. He stood at once, crossing the lawn, “did you find anything?”

 

            Vulko bowed in respect to his King.

 

            “Come on, Man. We’ve been over it. None of that. You trained me when I was a kid. Think we’re beyond bowing.”

 

            “It is protocol.”

 

            “It’s nonsense. Come on, pull up a chair. Have some steak.”

 

            “Steak?” Vulko asked.

 

            “You’ll love it,” Arthur slapped him on the back.

           

            Vulko smiled at Atlanna, giving her a bow.

 

            “I’m no longer ruling Atlantis. There is no need for that,” Atlanna said.

 

            “You always ruled in a gracious and fair manner. For that, you get a bow,” Vulko smile. He looked at Mera, who seemed more interested in feeding the dog than anything else happening around her.

 

            “Okay. Okay. I think he’s got his fill, Babe,” Arthur came up behind Mera’s chair, taking the plate out of her lap. He shook his head. It was covered in dog drool, “on second thought, I’ll just get you a new plate.” He put it down on the ground for the Salty, who happily pounced on it at once.

 

            “I turn my back on you for two seconds,” he sighed, trying, and mostly failing, at being stern.

 

            Mera smiled up at him with an innocence that was going to crush his soul one of these days.

 

            Sitting down, he got to work on getting another plate for Mera. He looked at Vulko, “tell me, Brother. What’s the news?”

 

            “Yes. The recon team we sent out investigated the area around the city as you requested. Nothing suspicious could be found. The water is cooler there, but not chilling.”

 

            “Any idea why no one has ever come across this location before?”

 

            “It’s in a very obscure area of the ocean. It’s very deep down. Quite dark. In this location, there’s no reason why anyone would swim so deep. It’s far away from Atlantis and any mapped colonies existing outside of Atlantis. What’s interesting about the city…parts of the city are in one piece.”

 

            “Like it sank? Like Atlantis did?” Arthur asked while cutting Mera’s food for her once more.

 

            “Not quite-“ Vulko’s voice trailed off as he watched Mera start to slyly put food towards Salty.

 

            Arthur followed Vulko’s eyes and sighed, “no. No. No.”

 

            Mera smiled over at Arthur, “he likes it.”

 

            “I’m glad. Now let’s find out if you like it,” Arthur took her fork and stabbed a piece of steak, bringing it to her lips.

 

            She stared at the fork as if studying it.

 

            “Take a bite,” Arthur encouraged her, keeping his voice light, but with a subtle no nonsense attitude.

 

            Mera relented, sighing dramatically as if it were the biggest task in the world. Finally, she bit it and chewed.

 

            “Good,” he said, continuing the process with her since she was more determined to nourish the dog than herself. Arthur looked back at Vulko, “sorry, you were saying?”

 

            Vulko wiped the sad expression off his face. It could not fail to surprise him how deteriorated Mera’s mind had become since the beginning of her illness, “oh, yes. Right. The city,” he put himself back on track, “it seemed as though it has faced great destruction. Recon still investigates it, but what has been described to us, many areas are in shambles. But other areas look to be repaired. New.”

 

            Concern flashed in Arthur’s eyes, “backs up the idea that this ruler returned. He’s coming back in a big way.”

 

            Vulko nodded his head, “I would say someone powerful is, at the very least, utilizing the city.”

 

            “Would these guardians do it for anyone else that wasn’t their original Master?” Atlanna asked.

 

            “Likely not.”

 

            “How is this guy back?” Arthur sighed.

 

            Vulko looked to Mera, “I do wonder…”

 

            “You think it’s her?” Arthur asked.

 

            Mera, feeling their eyes on her, froze where she sat. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the intense stares on her. The conversation breezed past her ears. Words sounding like wind as they whipped around her ears. Still, she had noted the change in tone. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t light. And now they were looking at her. Naturally, she leaned towards Arthur, her head resting against his forearm.

 

            He bent his head down and kissed the top of her hair, “shhh. It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe.” He rubbed her arm. He cleared his throat, trying to lighten his tone around her, “we knew they made her sick on purpose, but we didn’t know why. I don’t see how slowly killing her helps him.”

 

            “It’s hard to determine. We theorized this ruler was already back. Perhaps, something about her being ill brings him back. The sacrifice of someone strong,” Vulko said, keeping his voice as light as possible.

 

            Mera seemed to be calming, still resting against Arthur, but no longer rubbing her face against his arm.

 

            “The Guardians want to keep us out. Knowledge said that much. If that’s the case…whatever is there will undo what happened to her.”

 

            “We may learn what that is our team does a full scope of the city,” Vulko said, “they’re making a map. Once they have this map constructed, we will bring it to you. You can choose to go at the best time for yourself and Mera.

 

            Arthur nodded, “thank you. Tell them to be careful. If anything looks off, note it, and have them get the hell out of there.” He sighed, “it’s odd. They haven’t run into any guardians.”

 

            “No, they haven’t,” Vulko said. “It seems, so far, they do not mind your recon team being there.”

 

            “They just don’t want me there.”

 

            “Or Mera,” Vulko said.

 

            Arthur’s eyes hardened, “all the more reason to get inside sooner than later.”

 

***

           

The house was silent. Listening closely, the gentle sound of waves breaking upon the shore filled the air with a peaceful lull. It was quite nice. In Mera’s restless state, she found the sensations of the waters rocking in through the air calming. She smiled lightly to herself. It was nicer than her moments before bedtime. Her veins puffing out blue. They didn’t hurt, but they were large and had _looked_ painful. Her fingertips had felt along the ridges of them. Seconds later, Arthur had come with her medicine. She thought he might be sick from the pale expression on his face. He had hurried over, urging her to take the tonic. Cautioning her against spitting it out because of the taste.

 

It had tasted bad.

 

She had wanted to spit it out.

 

But she promised she wouldn’t.

 

And Arthur had watched her, even once the medicine was drunk. He only stopped when the swelling of her arms and legs went down. He had made a comment about color returning to her face. She noted that color was returning to his face too. But he said she had looked like a ghost. From there, he had tucked her in before practically falling upon the mattress himself. She had cuddled up to him, but she could hardly sleep soundly.

 

The medicine helped with certain aches, but the burns on her legs still throbbed. She had to lay on her side, or stomach, due to the hurt on her back. Arthur was sound asleep. She wanted to poke him with her foot to see if he might read to her. But she felt a pang of guilt at the idea.

 

Slowly, she slipped out of the bed instead. Her legs yelled at her, but she ignored them. She was quite tired of their behavior. They were her legs. Therefore, they must mind her. As was the same for her ribs. And the same for her back. She was feeling antsy. She wanted to do something instead of lie about. She moved across the bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake Arthur. She wouldn’t go far. She could return to him at any time and that made her feel better about leaving.

 

Slowly, she crept out of the bedroom and down the hall. She inched down the stairs, gritting her teeth from the pain. Her ribs were starting to feel better. She didn’t know if it was due to that superhero healing that allowed her to bounce back quicker. Her sickened body; however, prevented all of her injuries to dissipate as quickly as they normally might. Still, she could get down the stairs on her own now. Improvement all around.

 

Gliding across the floor, everything was swirling around her. She started to regret leaving her bed. Biting her bottom lip, she shuffled forward slowly. Her mind spinning, swallowing her whole as the room all around her seemed to be doing the same. Again, she felt it elongating. Getting wider. Everything was spreading out farther from her. Mera put her hand to her forehead, beginning to feel her cheeks flush over.

 

The floorboards creaked around her.

 

Her head tilted up. Someone was here, but who it was she could not make out through the dark.

 

“Arthur…” she gently called out.

 

A hand came down on her shoulder, but did not say a word.

 

She turned, looking over her shoulder, “Arthur?”

 

The hand patted her on the back, gently scooting her forward.

 

“I know. I must go back to bed,” she said gently.

 

The hand opened the front door, scooting her again forward.

 

Her fuzzy mind blinked several times, something seemingly off. She tried to think about what was wrong. She tried to think back, but all she could really grasp was that she had left her bed. She had come downstairs. What was wrong? Her scattered brain tried to cling onto reality, making sense of the shapes around her body. The change in temperature. It was colder now than a moment before.

 

She was gently pushed forward again.

 

The ground beneath her feet felt prickly, but somewhat squishy.

 

Until it turned harder. Again, she was gently nudged forward.

 

“Bed?” She asked gently.

 

She only heard breathing behind her.

 

Anytime she tried to peer over her shoulder for Arthur, she was again, gently nudged forward.

 

Eyes upfront, all she could see was nothingness around her. All she could feel was the cold hard ground.

 

“I will go back to bed,” she said in a faded voice.

 

She slumped forward, walking through fuzzy filtered eyes. Mera was unsure what she was seeing as her confused mind was easily led further and further away from the Curry house.


	20. Chapter 20

Panic gripped her heart. Mera could not recall how she managed to wander outside. In fact, as the hours of walking passed by, she could not recall getting out of bed. Why was she not in her love’s arms? She would look to her left, her right, and even over her shoulder, but she could not see him.

 

“Arthur?”

 

She would call his name out again and again, but he was nowhere near to answer. Her legs were growing tired. They were aching desperately. She wished to simply get down upon the ground and rest, but this could not be an option. She had to find Arthur. She had to find her home. All she wanted were his arms. They were always so warm. So secure. A sanctuary she yearned for especially now. Lonely. She walked with no end in sight. It felt as though she were trapped upon a road with an undetermined destination. So, they continued to build upon the road, stretching it out further and further and further, until a location could finally be decided. In truth, a decision could never be made. All those who blindly walked it, once lost to it, now haunted it, convinced the end would come.

 

Kicking up gravel, the uneven backroad was harsh upon her bare feet. She could not see where wandered well. Here and there, she would stub a toe uncomfortably, whimper, but press on. There was no use in whining when she had to find him.

 

“Arthur,” she tried his name again.

 

It was without any luck.

 

She tried to remember the last time she had seen him now. The memory, not so distant, held no form. It was all cloudy, but in the midst of the chaos was him and his warm arms. How she missed those arms so dearly.

 

“Oh, Arthur,” she whimpered to herself, “where are you?”

 

A shove to her back was harder this time. Mera almost lost balance, catching herself as tired legs wished to give out. She managed to not take a face full of gravel. Turning around on her heel, she was only met with darkness. Her fuzzy eyesight was unable to fully distinguish the Guardian’s hooded form from the rest of the dark sky. What she could discern was a solid form before her. She tilted her head to the side. It looked like a blanket of night standing upright. Slowly, with a childlike innocence, she lifted her hand. She reached out to touch the form before her. Curiously.

 

Long clammy fingers of The Guardian curled around her wrist. Slowly, The Guardian turned her, so she faced the woods. With a gentler touch, The Guardian pushed her away from the beaten path. She did not wish to walk any longer. Anytime she tried to stop, again, the night pushed her forward. The crunch and shuffle of fallen leaves sounded beneath her. Broken sticks hurting her bare feet. She wanted to complain and whine that she was much too tired for this stroll, but any time she paused to do so…her actions were met with a push.

 

She was tired of it! She was tired of being pushed! It annoyed her greatly and she had just about had it. Whirling around once again, she tried to stare the culprit who picked on her in the face. She could not find the face. There was only darkness. It did not make a difference. It kept pushing her and it was unkind!

 

“No more!” She demanded. “I wish to go home! You will stop at once.”

 

The Guardian tilted its head to the side. If it knew amusement, it likely would have experienced the feeling. Lifting its arm once again, it gripped Mera hard by the throat, practically crushing her windpipe in the process.

 

Mera was in the air, kicking her sore legs frantically. Her hands came down upon the bony hand which held her. Desperately she tried pry away its fingers.

 

It one swift motion, it slammed her heavily into the tree trunk to their right. Letting her go, she slumped down in a daze against the bark. Mera lifted her eyes up. The night’s sky was cruel. She was starting to wonder if it was responsible for why she was so far away from home. She wanted to cry. Her mind not able to understand cruelness.

 

The Guardian knelt down before her, leaning forward. With a gentle hand, it wiped away a fallen tear.

 

Mera stared up in wonder by the change of actions.

 

The Guardian leaned closer. And closer. And closer…

 

Until she saw blue lips.

 

Mera screamed.

 

***

 

Arthur shot up awake. Sighing, from the sudden disruption of his sleep, Arthur turned to make sure he hadn’t woken up Mera. The slightest unexpected movement could rattle her and he was all too prepared to comfort her straight away. Instead, he found her side of the bed was empty. His heart dropped into his stomach, “Mera?”

 

Heading towards the closest bathroom, he flipped the light only to find it empty. He ran from the hallway and down the stairs. The house was dark, but it didn’t stop him from turning every light on in the place, “Mera!” He yelled.

 

It was only then that he turned around again, taking stock of the house in full view, that he noticed it…

 

The front door was open!

 

Eyes widened, he bounded outside and into the front yard. He scanned his eyes quickly around his surroundings. The driveway. The road. There was no red hair wandering around, “Mera!” He screamed.

 

“What? What’s going on?” Tom’s voice sounded behind him.

 

Arthur turned to look at both his parents, standing in the front hall with sleepy expressions on their face. There was no chance they had seen his Queen.

 

“Mera. She’s gone!”

 

“What?”

 

“How?”

 

Both parents asked in unison.

 

“She got out of the house!”

 

“What?”

 

“When?”

 

Both parents asked, again, in unison.

 

“I don’t know!” Arthur shouted more in panic than anger. “She’s not! She’s not here!”

 

“I’ll check out back,” Tom said, hurrying towards the backdoor of the lighthouse.

 

Arthur and Atlanna were out front, searching the sides of the house, looking down the street. Tom met back up with them, empty handed.

 

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” Atlanna said.

 

“Nah. She could have. She could have gotten very far,” Arthur said.

 

“It’s not like she really knows to leap buildings in a single bound right now,” Tom said, trying to comfort his son.

 

“Sure. But Guardians were awakening. It was said they were gonna pull this crap. And…” Arthur whipped his head, as if she were going to surprise him. As if he was gonna see her, “and I slept through it!”

 

There was no amount of comforting his parents could do for him. Both could sense that reminding him this wasn’t his fault was not helpful for the time being. He didn’t want to hear it. He wouldn’t believe it. Right now, to Arthur, this was no time to be spent on soothing feelings. Their focus had to be on finding Mera.

 

“I’m gonna go look for her,” Arthur said.

 

“I’ll call the local sheriff,” Tom said, “you gotta be missing for 48 hours for them to lift a finger, but she’s not in her right head. They’ll make an exception given her mental state,” Tom said, hurrying towards the house.

 

“Dad.”

 

Tom looked over his shoulder.

 

“If they find her, if she’s not alone, tell them not to approach. I can handle the Guardians. Just…have ‘em tell me where they spot her.”

 

Tom nodded his head. When he hit the doorway to the house, he grabbed the keys to his truck and tossed them Arthur’s way.

 

Catching them, Arthur headed towards the car. He wasn’t coming home unless he had her with him, safe and sound.

 

***

 

Mera walked through the forest with heavy steps. The nerve of the night. How it tried to bite her. She did not appreciate such nonsense. Arthur never tried to bite her. She couldn’t remember a single time he had ever tried to bite her. It didn’t dawn on her that she didn’t remember much of anything at all…

 

Sighing, she felt a twinge. A discomfort falling over her. It started in her legs. As if they were waking up. Angry with her. Perhaps, they were tired from all the walking? She could not stop, however, as she had not found Arthur yet. The discomfort started to flow throughout her body. She felt her stomach growing tight. Her cheeks felt flushed. Her hand reached out to steady herself. Luckily, there was a tree nearby that greeted her palm. She stood there, trying to get herself back together.

 

“I don’t like this,” her sad voice called to no one in particular.

 

She swallowed. Her mouth felt wet and dry at the same time. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to wish her feelings away. The pain in her legs intensifying. A small headache picking up behind her eyes and into her temples.

 

“I don’t like this at all,” she whimpered.

 

The sound of crackling caught her attention. Slowly, her chin tilted up. Slowly, she pushed herself forward. There was something soothing about the sound. As she moved closer to the noise, stumbling here and there beneath hurting legs, she felt warmth. Pushing past thick vegetation, a comforting glow greeted Mera’s face. She smiled lightly. The shine from illumination hurt her head, but even so there was something very…very cozy about the scene.

 

She was completely taken with the fire before her. She took one step forward. Another and another. Her hands came up in front it, wanting to feel the warmth more. It was only when she got close enough that she could understand that her fun little area had company. The world around her seemed to whip fast. It was turning upside down before looping again and again as though she were on a disastrous theme park ride.  Her stomach feeling sicker. Her legs hurting further. Her face searched for the four figures standing around the fire. Her eyes were too blurry to see anything specific about them.

 

“Everything…I…” she tried to speak.

 

Legs giving out beneath her, she felt long bony hands grab each side of her arms, dragging her closer to the fire. Face down on her stomach, being manhandled by the people all around her, her brain couldn’t register their actions. The fire of her legs was up in her arms now too. All she could focus on was the pulsating pain that burrowed in her bones.

 

“Help…” she tried to cry out.

 

She wanted to scream as every single nerve within her body was awakened.

 

Four Guardians stood over her wriggling form. Tying her up like a pig about to be roasted on a spit, they knew the rope was more for their enjoyment than out of necessity. The disease was doing their job for them.

 

One Guardian, thinking ahead, grabbed a rope and put it over her crying mouth. Tying it shut. Keeping her quiet.

 

They looked between each other, all nodding in understanding.

 

She had to be quiet. Better not to tip off the locals.

 

Better not to alert Arthur Curry.

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

_“A man, presumed dead over a year ago, has shown up on the side of the road just outside of Amnesty Bay. Local police report that the body shows signs of the deceased being dead for only several hours,” the Lead News Anchor began. “But in a surprise turn of events, upon identifying the body, the man’s name was revealed to be that of Howard Langston. A pervious worker at the cannery and a man who died two years ago in an auto accident.”_

_“Look likes a job for The Aquaman, I would say,” her Co-Anchor noted._

_“That’s right, Brad. Perhaps, Atlantis is at it again.”_

“It’s a good thing Arthur didn’t hear that,” Tom noted from the living room of the Lighthouse.

 

The great assumption that Atlantis was the obvious enemy would have torn right into his son. People were always afraid of what was different. Weren’t they? He watched it between Surface governments alone. Countries weary of each other because their ideology differed. They decided what was different was dangerous rather than it being an opportunity to learn more from each other. If the Surface could not get along with themselves, they were not going to be kinder to a secret watery world. Not to mention, one filled with ‘species’ they had never seen before.

 

“We should call Arthur about the location. It’s probably a Guardian,” Atlanna said, brushing off the insensitive comment the newscaster had made.

 

“A dead Guardian. You think Mera got the drop on him?”

 

Atlanna smirked, “Mera may be down. But I knew her even as a young girl. I saw her train. Trust me, she is never out.”

 

Tom nodded, impressed by Atlanna’s modern lingo of ‘down and out.’ Normally, he might make a suggestive comment about that, but now was not the time for such romances.  Instead, Tom reached for the phone to alert his son.

 

***

 

The area was blocked off. Slowing his truck down, Arthur got out when the car was stopped. He pushed through the yellow tape. Two police officers came over, attempting to stop him from going further.

 

“Sir, you’re going to have to stay behind the yellow line,” one officer spoke.

 

Arthur tilted his head to the side, almost amused. Did they really not know who he was? Did he have to introduce himself? They were younger. He was betting they were a couple of rookies. He didn’t recognize their faces. They weren’t anyone he had gone to school with, but still Amnesty was small. He didn’t know every single person by face and name in the town, but it was small enough that they’d know the local Aquaman.

 

One of the Rookies puffed out their chest a bit, putting his hand on his hoister in classic fashion.

 

Arthur smirked. Ah. He got it. They _did_ know who he was after all. They were trying to play it tough. Make it clear that this was their show and they were in charge, not some Justice League member. A need to matter. Clearly. But then he came around. They felt inferior. Funny how that happened because, on his side of the fence, he’d much rather not have to be out here at all. He’d much rather not have The Aquaman, nor Atlantis, part of his life. The grass is always greener.

 

“Sure. Respect to you and all you do. But I’m still coming through,” Arthur said, barreling through the pair as if they were an old pair of swinging doors at a cowboy tavern.

 

“Hey! Get back behind the tape!” One of the cops yelled.

 

“Take it easy, Harrison,” a female voice sounded in front of all three of them.

 

Arthur recognized that voice. Erica. Now, _she_ he had gone to school with. She was one of the few that hadn’t treated him like he was a freak. Still didn’t. A rare opportunity to actually call someone a friend.

 

“He’s helped the department out in the past,” Erica said.

 

It seemed to make both officers ease up, but their faces practically pouted. Their badge bruised.

 

“There’s no sign of Mera,” Erica looked apologetic, “we have a team combing the woods, but so far she hasn’t turned up.”

 

Arthur reached into his pockets out of discomfort. He felt the tonic in one. Damn. She was way over the limit on needing it. He felt his stomach drop while simultaneously coming up into his throat. The pain she had to be in…Worse than that, there was nothing to stall the disease from progressing. If they didn’t find her soon…

 

“There’s no sign of tracks in the woods. Anything?”

 

“There was a fire pit,” Erica noted. “So someone was out in the woods last night.”

 

“She wouldn’t know how to make a fire.”

 

It was true. Mentally stable or not, fire making wasn’t a big hit in Atlantis. Those crazy Atlanteans never could seem to get it work.

 

“You’re sure this guy’s death was her?” Erica asked.

 

Arthur looked over at the body. The body wasn’t dehydrated beyond recognition, but the damage was clear. That was his girl, “she was here. And that…that thing was after her. There are going to be more.”

 

“What thing?” Erica asked.

 

“It’s a lot to get into. I don’t have time. I just have to find her. Just tell your people to be careful. If they’ve seen anything, or anyone around her, they can’t approach. This stuff. It’s my territory. Might want to break that to the Mod Squad over there,” Arthur pointed over his shoulder at the rookie cops.

 

Erica nodded her head, “I’ll do my best. I can’t ignore a dead body. The Sheriff will want answers.”

 

“This whole town got amnesi?  It’s Aquastuff. Besides, it’s not really the body of the guy who died last year. You can check. So, there’s no real body. If your Sherriff wants in on this, then, good luck to him. That’s all I can say.”

 

Arthur made his way into the woods, leaving it at that. He didn’t have time for the police to decide today, of all days, to nurse their hurt egos.  There wasn’t anything they could do, but locate the ‘missing mermaid.’ Mera hated that label, but it was what The Surface decided she was to them. Hopefully, their infatuation with her would cause them to put a little pep in their step finding her. Pushing some brush aside, he explored deeper into the woods. Sure, the police hadn’t noticed tracks, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t spot something they hadn’t. When it came to Mera, he wasn’t trusting anything on anyone’s good word.

 

***

 

The disease’s fire, which burned through flesh and bone, could no longer bring screams. Mera’s voice was charred by crying, begging, and pleading. Her mind felt as though electricity were being shot into it left and right. Her body wriggled where it lay, stuck without speech to communicate and unleash the energy her torture built inside. That was the worst part of all. She could no longer cry. She could no longer express her hurts. She could no longer expel the little bit of release left in her life.

 

Now, there was only fire.

 

Flashes of being burnt at the stake filled her mind. Movies cut to the chase. Once, when Arthur was sleeping, her restless mind had kept her up. Tip-toeing downstairs, she turned on the Story Box to find a historical movie about a queen. Intrigued, she had watched it. Elizabeth. The opening scene was that of her sister, Queen Mary, and she was burning people for not being the correct religion…Mera watched, in horror, as it took minutes for the victims to be killed by the flames. Now, she knew minutes was a kindness. Mera was alone and not sentenced with a group; therefore, the fire had not been big enough to end her pain in minutes. A reality too common back in the Surface days for many people. Like them, Mera had suffered at the stake for an hour before finally losing consciousness.

 

Gods forbid it had been windy. It could have been longer…

 

Now, it felt as though she were being slowly burnt away all over again.

 

Dark shadows surrounded her, but this Mera did not have the capacity to notice. The Guardians stood, pleased, knowing their job was complete. They watched within the barn, having brought her to the home of the original Guardians who had succeeded in making Mera ill. The cornfield, cut down by Atlantis, was a backdrop. There was nowhere to hide, but Mera did not have the strength to try and run. The four clad shadowy figures were certain she did not even know where she rested. One Guardian nodded to another one. They turned, their fun was over, and it was time to finish their job.

 

They grabbed a sickle from the corner of the barn.

 

The pain slowly dissipated in Mera’s body. Her mind felt fuzzy, but she could hear her thoughts better. Thoughts that told her this was not a good thing, but rather it was the beginning of the end for her. She was rousing, as people do, before death. Her body was shutting down. Her nerves had become numb to the pain. She stared out and the four shadowy figures she saw were not Guardians at all…

 

“This land has water,” Atlanna said while standing by the barn door. “Why do you not call to it?”

 

Mera tilted her head to the side, trying to speak, but the only action she could muster was a small fist.

 

Lingering next to Mera, Vulko shook his head disappointed, “you were trained better than this, Mera. You are not supposed to rely solely on your power. But the same goes for your physical training. The two must compliment each other.”

 

The Guardian came closer to Mera, putting the sickle beneath her neck, ready to slice her from ear to ear.

 

All Mera saw was Arthur.

 

“Ignore ‘em both, Mera girl. Don’t ignore the pain. Lean into it. Let it make you crazy. Eh. But maybe ignore me. Your wild ass is what guides you most of the time anyway. You don’t need any of us saving you. You’re better than needing savin’ anyway. Unleash, Babe. Gotta get back to me. Take you on a carnival ride.”

 

A ride…

 

That is what everyone was taking her on right now! It was all too much. Too many voices. Too many people to listen to. Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw her father. Standing there. Arms folding. Glaring at her. Glaring at her choices. Glaring at the Surface Dweller she had saddled herself with and her father looked…he looked as though he wanted her to die. Pain. She didn’t lean away. She didn’t lean in. She didn’t want to do anything at all! She was tired of being strong. Tired of always fighting.

 

Mera screamed.

 

The grass outside turned brown. The leaves on trees began to wither. The ground beneath Mera and the Guardians began to shake. A giant pool of water ripped from beneath the farm land surrounded each side of Mera in giant waves. The foundation of the barn began to crack, the wood splintering as beams from the roof crashed down. The front of the barn rocked forward, crashing towards the ground. Not before Mera, unbeknownst to her, road a giant wave out of the barn, through the doors before they toppled to the earth. The Guardians were left crushed beneath the infrastructure of their favorite surface safe haven.

 

Mera didn’t see her journey to freedom. The force of the power called forth from her dying frame was the last of the energy she had left. Deep in her slumber, she was back on her stake. Atlanna, Vulko, and Arthur were throwing buckets of water where she burned while her father wore an executioners match screaming behind them in a rage.

 

 

…

 

_GASP_

Mera found herself laying in the middle of a long backroad, similar to the one she had walked upon the night before. Her sick mind, naturally, did not remember previous night’s events. Instead, she blinked for several seconds before lifting her head and shoulders up. Puzzlement fell across her features. She had just been at the stake. She had been having buckets of water thrown at her. Her nightgown squished each time she maneuvered her body. Mera realized she was soaked. She gazed around confused, her mind desperate to catch up on all the events which had occurred. All they could cling to was the stake. Atlanna, Vulko, and Arthur trying to save her. It must have worked.

 

 

Where were they now?

 

“Arthur,” she called out.

 

Pushing herself up on her elbows, she then placed her palm on the watery cement, hard little pieces of black rubble sticking to her skin. She got herself standing. Her legs were wobbly and everything was numb. What should have burned inside, didn’t burn. She slowly walked forward, feeling too cold for the day, but oddly brisk in movement. She blamed her chills on her soaked clothes when they should have felt refreshing beneath the eight-five-degree sun. Mera could not know this and her mind was back to one mission: Find Arthur.

 

Noting a small turn in the road ahead, she followed the entrance. It led to a small cottage looking house. Curiously, she wandered down the driveway and up to the door. She climbed the three small steps and knocked gently. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood there waiting for an answer.

 

It didn’t take long for that answer to come. A middle aged woman in an apron opened her home up, “yes?”

 

The woman’s smile dropped at once. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mera. Veins were sticking out of Mera’s face, neck, and arms. Her lips held no color. Her once red hair was quite dimmed. Her already pale skin was practically white.

 

The woman took a  quick step back.

 

Mera hardly noticed, “I was wondering if you had a phone? I was wondering if we could call Arthur?”

 

The woman struggled for breath. She struggled for words, “I don’t know what is wrong with you, but you need to get away from me.”

 

Mera tilted her head to the side, “I only wish to speak to Arthur.”

 

The woman looked at her as though she were mad, “I have children! Go away now!”

 

Before Mera could protest, the door was slammed shut in the Red Head’s face. Mera stood there for a moment perplexed. Slowly, her bottom lip began to quiver gently, but she pushed on. Head ducked down, she wandered off the woman’s property and onto the backroad. She began her search for Arthur all over again, as if she had never been faced with Guardians, and certainly none the wiser that she was near death.

 

One foot in front of the other. She trotted forward and forward and forward. Eventually, there had to be an end. And at that end, there had to be Arthur. Before long, she found herself in the town over. A small town like Amnesty Bay, though a little bit richer. The town was more modern. The clothing on the people spoke a bit more of money than the working class folk of Amnesty. They townspeople had something else in common with each other. They stared. They stared as the strange woman, barefoot, and sickly wandered through the streets appearing lost.

 

“Do you know where Arthur is?” She would ask upon occasion.

 

The responses differed between people running away quickly, a few calling her insane, but mostly people slammed into her shoulder while passing by, telling her to watch where she was going as if it were a busy town.

 

“isn’t that Fishman’s girl?” A young man in a shop window said to his boss.

 

They were working on the front window of the store, updating it for the upcoming season. The boss turned from the mannequin she was working on to study her employee’s observation. Putting on her glasses, that hung around her neck from a chain, she stared through the front window. There she saw Mera wandering slowly through the streets.

 

“I think you’re right! It is! I saw her on the news! She went missing last night!”

 

“Should we go get her?” The Young Man asked.

 

The Boss weighed this in her mind, “she doesn’t look well. I don’t know if she has powers like Aquaman. Best to let the police handle it. In case we scare her. I’ll call them. Let them know we saw her. She can’t get too far in that state.”

 

Outside, Mera’s appearance fit for a Halloween costume, scared people to the other side of the street. She didn’t allow it to deter her, though the heaviness in her heart of rejection scorched. The terrifying question planted itself in her brain. Would Arthur run from her too? Perhaps…perhaps he already had. After all, one moment he and the others were saving her with water. The next minute, she was alone. Something was terribly wrong with her and now she was alone. It couldn’t be a coincidence…

 

Reaching the far end of town, the wind picked up as she had reached the docks. Boat after boat lining the port. A Security Guard looked upon her, but he dared not approach. There was something wrong with the girl in the nightgown. Looking away for a moment, the guard spoke into the radio on his shoulder.

 

Mera stared blankly at the sea. Why was she alone? How long as she been alone now? Not too long. She was still wet. So, where could Arthur have gone? He loved her. He wouldn’t leave her. Not without good reason. Why had-

 

A pale hand with long, bony fingers came up from beneath the water of the dock. It grabbed Mera’s ankle and pulled her straight down into the water. Her back hit the edge of the dock, hard, on the way down. Her old lash wounds began to bleed and stain the water momentarily.

 

When the Security Guard looked back over, finally ready to approach her, the Red-Head had mysteriously vanished.


	22. Chapter 22

“No track marks my ass,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Granted, the local police’s specialty wasn’t exactly noticing when brush had been displaced or dirt in the ground had been moved. That was a different unit. A different type of training. It was also something Arthur had picked up training as The Aquaman. Sure, his studies had focused mostly on the aquatic aspects of the world, but being of the Surface, he had extended his knowledge. Protector of land and sea, whether people appreciated it or not. 

It became clear where the tracks were heading. The slight move of a bent branch. Lightly disheveled dirt too great to be by the wind, but subtle enough that the local police weren’t trained to see it. In time, he remembered the area. The farm. The tracks were leading him to the farm. What the hell was the fixation on this farm?  
.  
Clearing the woods, he was on the backroads, only to find the other side was wet. His eyes lit up, hope beginning to fill his heart. 

“Mera…”

***

Black nails gripped Mera’s throat tight. The remainder of her life dissipating as a new Guardian floated before her, squeezing out every last drop. Her legs kicking rapidly, she lifted her hand to compel the water to do her bidding. So many times it answered her call. Yet, this time, barley even a ripple in the liquid would could come to her aid. As death claimed her soul, so it did her strength and gifts. Her eyes widened. Even in her state of mind she understood: this was the end. The last thing she would ever see was the blank face of the creature while a pair of blue lips, with sharp teeth, inched closer and closer and-

The water turned red. 

The hand on Mera’s neck loosened. 

Dropping down into the ether of the ocean, The Guardian was swept away.

Arthur floated before Mera, the tips of his trident covered in blood as the ocean began cleaning death away. Mera stared at him, catching her breath, arms reaching forward towards the only understanding of safety her mind could hold.

His own eyes were wide, face to face with the realization that death had just about become her. The tonic in his pocket! She needed it now. As the puffy veins stared back at him, he noticed she was not consumed by pain. Arthur held the understanding this was no gift. In fact, it was the very opposite. She was going to die and she likely would not make another hour if he did not get her to the surface. Grabbing her quickly, he shot up in one swift swoop. The Red-Head was held in his arms as he crashed through the water and into the air before landing upon the dock. 

The Security Guard stood stunned, back up having only just arrived. With Aquaman around, they suddenly kept their distance.

Sitting down on the dock, Arthur placed Mera’s horizontally across his lap. She stared up at him, practically lifeless. Her lips turning blue, she raised her arm to touch his face, a slight smile appearing across her features. Busy reaching into his pocket, he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the tonic still safe and sound. Tilting her head back, he opened her lips. 

“You gotta keep this down, Girl. All of it.”

Her face didn’t express that she understood what he was saying. Rather, she continued to smile up at him, the sunshine making him glow all over again. She reached for his face once more. 

Arthur moved his head to the side, kissing her hand gently. He unscrewed the cap of the tonic, gently tilting her chin back again. He pressed the vial to her lips and let the liquid slip down her throat. Getting enough in her, he propped his arm up so she was lifted, giving her the ability to swallow the pressure of the liquid rather than choke. Mera did at once, coughing as it went down. 

While she coughed, Arthur studied her. Waiting. Hoping. He studied her symptoms, looking for any indication they would reverse. He had been hours late delivering her medicine. And this is what hours looked like. This is what she would look like without the tonic… 

No. 

Without this tonic, the screaming reality presented itself. Without the tonic, Mera already would have died. 

There was no room for lateness. She had suffered, probably in ways he did not know because he could not see her through it. Until…until her body had shut down. Organs likely shutting down within her. On the Surface, surgery would likely be needed to reverse the effects, if possible. 

He watched her symptoms, hoping superior Atlantean technology would be her saving grace.

Her skin was paper white. She shivered in his arms when the water had no business making her cold. A lump formed in Arthur’s throat, watching her veins stare back at him. Her dull hair. Her glazed eyes as she became heavier in his arms. 

“Mera…”He said, a tear finally breaking beyond his rough exterior. His hand coming up and touching her face, “Mera…please…”

Her hand reached up to his cheek in response. The one tear under her thumb. She tilted her head as the sunshine faded around him. 

“You’re so sad,” she said softly.

In his arms, her breath stilled. Her eyes glazed over. Her arm fell from his face.

“Mera?” Arthur’s voice rose alarmed. 

Her concerned expression slacked. Her features now blank. 

“Mera!” He shook her head, screaming. “Mera!”

He grabbed at her face, brushing her wet hair to the side. 

She stared through him. 

“Oh…my girl! My beautiful girl!” He pulled her lifeless body into his chest, hugging her close as her arms dangled at her sides. “No! No.! No!” He sobbed into her. 

A crowd began murmuring around him. Someone took on their phone to film the scene before them. 

Arthur howled against his dead beloved…  
…

A deep gasp came against his chest. 

Arthur froze for a moment. His head lifting from her soaked locks. Pulling her back, he saw her skin was paler, but it was not white. Her veins were more prominent, but they were not sticking out. Most importantly, her chest was rising and falling. 

“Mera…?” Arthur, he whispered, unable to move. It was a trick of the light? Or his mind was melting. He had gone crazy. Seeing what he wanted to see. Not understanding reality. 

Mera blinked several times before pouting at him, “I’m so tired, Arthur.”

His head tilted back, rocking her in his arms back and forth, more as a comfort for himself. He stared up at the blue sky. A sky she could see too. She was okay. He didn’t know how. He didn’t get why, but the tonic had managed to work. It had worked in the end. The damn nick of time, but it had worked. 

Tears fell from his face again. All he could hear in his head was, ‘it had worked. It had worked. It had worked.’

The crowd grew larger. More phones popped out, recording the scene before them in wonder. No one said anything. Everyone watched, a curious level of human nature interested in the show before them. The Security Guards kept overzealous citizens back, but that was as helpful as they decided to be.

It was fine. It was good. Arthur didn’t need their help. He didn’t want their help. He couldn’t use it anyway. From what he had heard on the walk through this town before finding her, there wasn’t much use these people had offer. The people he was destined to protect. He had to make a note to try and keep from becoming jaded. Right now, the psychological impact of the day would have to be set aside. He needed to get Mera home. Now, more than ever, he needed to put a stop to this disease once and for all.

***

Coming through the front door of the lighthouse, Arthur held Mera in his arms. Immediately, his parents bounded over. Atlanna cupping Mera’s face in her hands gently, fussing over her the way parents do. 

“She’s soaked,” Atlanna looked up at Arthur. 

“Hey. Don’t look at me. I didn’t push her in the ocean.” 

Atlanna let her hands drop, “I can run her a warm bath.”

Arthur shook his head, “I’m just gonna get her into something dry. Let her sleep. I think she needs that more than anything about now.” 

Walking upstairs, his parent’s eyes followed him. They could see the tension in his back, on his face. It worried them. He didn’t speak as though he were any different, but they knew their son. And they knew something was wrong. 

Holding Mera close, he traveled upstairs. He heard heavy paws behind him and it made him smile. Mera would like that. She’d like to have Salty’s company. It’d be good for her to have him on the bed. Dogs were healing.

He knew they couldn’t stay still long. There was no questions Guardians had done this to her. One on the backroad. One in the ocean. He found another dead in the woods too. The backroads had been wet by the farm, he didn’t doubt there had been at least one around that area. They were awakening, just like Knowledge warned. There was no more time to wait for maps. He needed to go to that city. Meet up with his team. Take it from there. The tonic had, likely, shocked her system. Killing her momentarily, luckily able to bring her back. It had been too damn close. Who knew what the repercussions of the disease being able to go untreated that long had caused? It was already a big question mark how much time she had left to live with this medicine. He had seen her mind getting worse every day. He couldn’t risk it. They had to go.

But first they had to sleep. As much as he wanted to work, to save her, she needed to rest. He supposed he probably did too. Truthfully, if she wasn’t half out of it, he would be going to that city right then and there. Sleep be damned.

Safe inside his childhood bedroom, Arthur pulled back the sheets to his bed. Gently, he placed Mera down as Salty hopped right up beside her, taking over Arthur’s spot. Mera instantly cuddled up to the ball of fluff.

“Sure. Sure. Replace me. It’s cool, babe.”

Mera looked over her shoulder at him, putting her hand out. She frowned. 

“I’m kidding.”

“You were crying before,” she said lightly.

He made a face. Damn. The one time he wanted her memory lapses to, well, lapse, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

She continued to frowned, certainly not appeased, “why are you sad?”

“I was sad. I’m not now.”

“You are,” she said knowingly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked around the room for a moment as if it might offer some sort of escape from this conversation. Nothing was presenting itself. He felt her tug at his hand. His eyes returned to her worried ones. He shifted where he stood, not loving being put on the emotional spot, “I ah. I don’t like seeing you sick. But I’m gonna make you well, Babe. I’m just stressing. But,” he put a hand up, “don’t worry. I got it. I got you.”

She squeezed his hand a little, “I have you too.”

Arthur smiled at the sentiment. He knew she tried to, but it wasn’t her fault that she was so out of it these days. Still, it was sweet that she was trying. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “you’re my sweet girl. I love you.”

She smiled under his kiss, “I love you too.”

Salty barked. 

Arthur reached over and ruffled the side of Salty’s head playfully, “we love you too, Boy. Don’t you worry. Only man who gets away with stealing my spot in bed.”

“I’ll make room,” Mera said.

Arthur lifted a brow, “yeah?”

“I’ll sleep on you,” she giggled.

He smirked amused. He knew why she thought that was so funny. Him as her pillow, comfortable for her for sure. He shook his head, “how’s that different than any other night?”

“I do not sleep on you,” Mera objected, having the audacity to look offended with her melted mind. 

Arthur laughed softly at her “you really do, Babe. And you’re a terrible sleeper.” She wiggled on him all night, so he couldn’t sleep either.

She pouted.

“It’s true, Mera.”

“Is not,” was Mera’s sound argument.

He tilted his head at her, his eyes fixed on her amused, “very mature argument.” 

Her pout didn’t falter.

Relenting, Arthur reached for the blanket to cover her up, “come on. Let’s get you to sleep …” 

Mera immediately reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. 

“Hey. Hey. Relax.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “I’m not leaving. I told you,” he lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking her face affectionately for a moment. “Not leaving you again.”

Sleep. That was the problem last time. There was no way she had any memory of how she had gotten out of the house, but she must have left the bedroom on her own. A Guardian wouldn’t have been able to lead her out without waking him up. Besides, she tended to not leave his side unless it was her idea. Otherwise, she practically panicked…

He couldn’t have a repeat of this again. It wasn’t as though he could make her promise him not to leave without waking him first.  
She’d forget…

He had to prevent it; otherwise, there was no way in hell he was getting any sleep. Sure, his parents were up. They’d probably catch her before she got out of the house, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He scanned the room, looking for something that would, maybe, get in the way of her being able to leave. Or…something that would, maybe, wake him up if she tried to leave. Nothing in his childhood bedroom really seemed to do the trick. There was only an old TV, an old video game system, and some DVDS. None of that was going to help. 

Arthur shifted, as he did he felt his keys in his pocket. Keys! He reached into his pocket and dug them out. Keys jingle. Okay. This was good. This he could work with. But…how?

He eyed the room again. Around the door knob, yeah? He needed to get them on something. Something he could hang them off of and then tighten around the knob. But…what? His eyes fell over the room until they landed on Salty. He smirked. 

“Hey, Boy. Come here!”

Salty remained on the bed, his head on Mera’s chest. Only his eyes looked up at Arthur, his face appearing lazy. 

Arthur stared back at Salty for a moment. Weren’t dogs supposed to be happy and eager when you called them over? But no. Not their dog. Salty had Mera, and he was comfortable, and damn Arthur couldn’t say he blamed him. That was about how he, too, looked too during his downtime. 

“Alright. Fine. I’ll do all the work,” he reached over to Salty’s neck, taking his collar off, “just gonna borrow this for a bit. Give it right back.” 

He took the collar off and then simply linked his keys along with the dog tag. He walked over to the door. Arthur paused, half expecting Mera to grab at him again. When the motion didn’t come, he looked over his shoulder. His heart rose in his throat. She was sleeping, but the sight of her still body ached. He wanted to shake her awake again. Just to be sure.

Arthur saw her chest rise and fall. He could feel himself breathe again, but his heart didn’t come down from his throat. He shook his head dejected and then resumed walking to the door. He placed the collar around it and then tightened it until it strangled the knob. Practicing opening the door, the combination of the keys and dog tags made a good jingle. 

Good. She wouldn’t get out of here now without him knowing.

Alright then.

Returning to the bed, he looked at Salty who had taken his spot, “I ain’t sleeping at the foot of the bed, Boy.”

Salty didn’t even give him the honor of looking in his direction. 

Arthur reached over, ruffling the dog’s fur. Salty lifted his head up and gave Arthur one big, long lick straight over his face. Arthur squinted his eyes at the action, the slimy kiss greatly felt over his features, “awesome.” 

“Come on, then,” he shooed Salty just a bit. Salty stood, at least letting Arthur lay next to Mera. But Salty knew he was really in charge of both his humans, so when Arthur laid down, Salty found a way to rest in the middle of both of them. Arthur would have been amused if it wasn’t so sad. Sure, Salty got up on the bed. Sometimes he slept on it with them back home. Of course, it was a bigger bed so there was enough room. Still, their dog wasn’t usually this clingy. He could sense it. He could sense Mera being sick…

Arthur reached over and patted Salty, “I know, Boy. I know. I’m gonna make it right.”

His eyes fell back onto Mera, a deep sleep having washed over her. She needed it, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like seeing her eyes closed. He didn’t like seeing her body so still. He didn’t like her not talking. He didn’t like having seen her dead.

He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t. Instead, he reached over, pulling her close to his chest. It was only when he could feel her hot breath on him that this became his lullaby. Finally comforted into slumber.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

_The brightness of the sea gleamed beneath a harrowing sun. It was too vibrant. It held too much shine. Blinding as heavy shoes shuffled through sand to conquer destiny. But the path was obstructed by contrasting dark figures who seemed to somehow pale beneath threatening rays. The blades of the scythes reflected light upon each other, extending down the line of a Guardian blockade._

_They waited and Aquaman had seen them from the dock of his home. The casted light making them look somehow less threatening than the glassy sea._

_Arthur left Mera behind. She stood upon the dock as the wind blew her red hair to the side. She watched him far away. She didn’t try to grip him back towards him. She didn’t try to follow his lead. Nor did she try to take charge herself. She simply stared, ambivalent in expression, but allowing him to go forth. It was always his nature to at least try._

_Inches away, Arthur stood before The Guardians face to face. Neither side budged._

_“You’ll stop at nothing to keep my girl from getting well. I’ll stop at nothing to keep her from staying sick,” Arthur gruffed._

_Droplets of red liquid dripped to the sand, pooling with the blood of lost Atlanteans_

_Arthur stared down, the blood trickling towards his boot. He looked up, gauging nothingness in the face._

_“That should have washed off in the sea…”_

 

 

Eyes snapping open, anguish ignited in Arthur’s stomach. Mouth dry and thirsty, he took stock of the room. He felt the heaviness of his chest. He felt Mera’s heart beat against him, but it wasn’t enough to ease his frayed nerves. He used to wake up this way after learning his mother was killed. Nightmares ruining peaceful slumber with visuals of her execution. He’d dream of his father facing the same fate by an Atlantean King’s jealous hand. The world would feel hollow in the morning hours. Limbs seemingly detached from his body. It didn’t make a difference, up to it or not, he still had to go to school.

 

Up to it or not, he still had to face the Underground Kingdom.

 

Despite the gnawing feeling in his gut, he started to get up. He felt Mera grip at his shirt, demanding his presence remain still.

 

“Sorry, Babe. We gotta get moving. Places to be. Cures to steal.”

 

Mera didn’t move an inch. He didn’t expect her too. It didn’t matter what frame of mind she was in, stubborn was a reoccurring theme. With a little try, he slid himself up from under her. He crossed the room, finding her Atlantean garb for the water. Once fetching it from the closet, he set about dressing her for their next adventure. And, might he add, with very little help from her.

 

“I’m still tired,” she hugged the pillow.

 

“So am I,” he noted. He was tired in many, many ways. Physically sleeping would just be an excuse to escape all the other pesky reasons for his weary bones. “Up,” he commanded, gently taking her beneath the arms and sitting her so she faced him.

 

She slightly whined, but that was as far as her protests went. It was good to see a melted mind didn’t mean a tantrum mind. There was still enough maturity left over after all. Not a ton---he remembered Salty face deep in her dinner from the night before---but enough.

 

Bringing the garb over to her, Arthur took note of Mera’s injuries from the adventures with Knowledge. Her legs were coming along nicely and her back was more bruised than cut. Her illness had, yes, slowed down her healing, but only by a few days. Luckily. It hadn’t granted her Surface Dweller speed. She’d be in the hospital if that had been the case. Arthur took one leg, and then the other, getting them through the pants part of her suit. When he reached her thighs, he patted her hip with a gentle hand. She lifted her bottom up lightly, so he could slide the suit completely over her. Then one arm, then the other arm, and he zipped her up.

 

Good to go.

 

Mera looked at the garb curiously. Pinching the material of her left arm with her right hand, inspecting it.

 

“You don’t remember wearing this before?”

 

The material looked like it would be hard to move in. Tight. No room to breathe. But Atlantean technology was deceiving. It was like a second skin to them. It protected them, but allowed them to breathe.

 

“It feels different,” she noted.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know that game.”

 

She probably looked as perplexed as he had putting Atlantean garb on for the first time. He thought he’d be fitting in an oversized condom, truth be told.

 

“I’m gonna get ready and then we gotta go.”

 

“Where?”

 

He started for the closet again, finding his own attire, “to get you well.”

 

“How?”

 

Arthur paused. That was a damn good question. The Atlanteans he had sent for recon hadn’t shown today, or in the middle of the night, or at any freaking point he had been off looking for Mera. And how the hell long did it really take to go through one city and quickly note landmarks for him to navigate through? Not this long if you didn’t run into problems…

 

But where the hell was Vulko? Why the hell hadn’t he alerted Arthur if he had suspected any kind of problem? No good answer. He knew it in his gut. Which meant…recon had bought Mera time to heal, but it might have cost people their lives with no leg up to show for it. That map they would have created would have been damn helpful…

 

A swarm of emotions filled him. Kings made the wrong choices. They only ever knew they were the wrong ones until after they had been made. If his recon team was dead, it was for nothing. Plain and simple.

 

“How, Arthur?” Mera asked gently again.

 

He looked over his shoulder, his Atlantean attire now in his hands. His face was calm. For her. “Don’t worry so much, Babe. I got you.”

 

***

 

Cold water slapped Arthur in the face as he neared the dreaded coordinates provided by Knowledge. Feeling Mera’s arms tighten around his neck, he knew she was likely cold. It alarmed him, but did nothing to surprise him given how frigid she had been becoming on the Surface. It shouldn’t be. Xebel was some of the coldest waters he had ever felt. Swimming in that area was even uncomfortable for him, but that was where she had grown up. For most of her life, she had known no difference. Yet, just outside the Underground City, what felt like early autumn in New England, was making her shiver.

 

Arthur felt Mera’s lips quiver against his skin and he knew he had done the right thing streamlining the process by coming here.

 

He dove deeper and deeper into the ocean water and it brought him back to grade school. Textbooks open before him of fish with “flashlights” on their heads. A girl who sat near him had casually pointed to the picture, holding it up to him, before saying, “is this your mother?”

 

It had gotten a big laugh from everyone in the classroom. Everyone but him. All the teacher had done was tell everyone to ‘settle down.’ No repercussions for bullying the weird kid. Not that he was bitter or anything…

 

He swam further and further, one of Mera’s Atlantean GPS’ in his hand as it told him to keep going. He blinked confused. It directed him to swim forward. All he saw was a broken down cove. Rubble blocking the entryway. Yet, her GPS, often seemed to enjoy leading to deceivingly correct areas. So, this had to be the place. There had to be a way in... Last time, he had been confused by one of these obscure places, he had kinda…fallen into discovery…Any chance that could happen again?

 

He swam up to the rubble. He looked around the sides of where the cove’s mouth should be. No way in. What the hell had his army done? Taken the rocks aside to get in and then politely put them back. After all, it WAS this old ruler’s house they were breaking into. Better respect his décor. Arthur grunted. Gently untangling Mera from his back, he sat her a rock near the sandy bottom of the cliff the cove was perched upon, “stay there…and hold this… it’s blue and pretty. You’ll like that,” he said putting the GPS in her hands.

 

One by one, he began tossing rocks away. Damn. He was gonna be spent before he even got into this city. One rock. Then another. Then another. He tried to wipe sweat from his brow out of habit, but the water had already carried it away. Which was annoying. There was a lot less satisfaction when he couldn’t wipe away his own hard work.

 

Another rock, and then another rock, and then another rock…

 

“Why do you not go in through here?”

 

Arthur turned to where Mera was supposed to be sitting, only to find that it was empty. His eyes widened, “Mera! Where the hell are you?”

 

He eyed the dark waters frantically, trying to see a pop of red hair.

 

“Up here.”

 

Her voice came above his head.

 

His chin tilted up. He saw her standing casually with the GPS at the very top of the high cove.

 

Arthur eyes widened, “Mera get your wild ass down here!”

 

She stared at him as if he was the stupidest person she had ever met.

 

He remembered that look. He missed that look. He swam up towards her.

 

Reaching the top of the cove, his face was serious. He was about ready to chastise her. In fact, yeah. That sounded good, “what did I just say? I know you forget. But you don’t forget that fast.”

 

She lifted her brows up at him.

 

He tilted his head, wondering for a moment if she was lucid again.

 

Mera simply brushed aside some of the seaweed that was growing all over the cove. She then pointed to the hole in the top of the rocky formation.

 

“Oh,” he said lightly. It made more and more sense why no one had randomly discovered this place. Not only was in a deserted part of the ocean. It was deep down and the entryway was disguised.

 

“You know,” Arthur began, “I had. I had looked for other entry points. I just missed that one. But I had looked. So. Ah. Really you’re just plagiarizing my idea.”

 

She tilted her head to the side, confused.

 

He sighed, realizing, nah, she wasn’t lucid. She couldn’t keep up with his fast speech. It kinda made the fact that she had found the way in all the more embarrassing.

 

“We go through there,” she said to him, explaining it as if he did not understand.

 

“I know.” He swam closer to her. “Thank you.”

 

She smiled and nodded, about ready to dive right in.

 

He gently took her by the arm, catching her eyes, “babe. I love you all independent and doing shit. But…you’re forgetful.”

 

She blinked.

 

Right. Simple. He hated bossing her around. Telling her what to do. It wasn’t the nature of their relationship. They pulled equal weight. And hell, if anyone was gonna boss anyone around, it was her to him. That was good by him. It was pretty hot. Right now, this wasn’t their normal dynamic, “you have to stay by me always. I can’t lose you in these waters. Okay?”

 

“But I found it.”

 

“I’m glad. Just let me know if you have any idea. We can do it together. Fair?”

 

She paused, considering this. She liked to be close to him anyway. So, she nodded, deciding this was an acceptable term.

 

“Good,” he said, “let’s go then.”

 

Taking the GPS from her, he pulled towards him, arm around her side. They went through the hole in the top of the cove together, ready to discover what was on the other side.


End file.
